#and have the metal be sturdy enough to. one. not bend. and two. not break.

[scintillating-scales]

Dude I need claws SO bad. Except I need prosthetics to be really sturdy, so I can actually like. Use them for shit. Like I wanna be able to wear them to help me climb or claw at stuff or whatever I need them for. But people only make like plastic or foam or resin claws. It's not STRONG enough. I need like. IRON claws. STEEL claws. Claws I can climb trees and rock faces with. Claws that could kill a man if I wanted them to. It's a fucking TRAGEDY these aren't a thing, and I swear to God I'm about to learn metalworking just so I can make myself a suitable set.

[misswynters]

Ma Meilleure Amour

featuring. ekko x fem!reader

a/n. doing my duty as a writer to fill the ekko tag with fics of him only (it’s translated to my best love)

inspired by. the song Ma Meilleure Ennemie and the scene with ekko and jinx in act iii (listen to it while reading)

Everything felt different. The streets of Zaun had the ever-present haze of smog seem softer, its grim edge dulled by the warm hum of neon lights. The streets bustled with life, as they always did, but the night gave the chaos a certain charm. The glow of green and pink signs reflected off damp cobblestones, while the occasional flicker of a malfunctioning lamp sent ripples of color through shallow puddles.

You walked side by side with Ekko, your steps slow and aimless, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. You didn’t, of course. With how Zaun always had a way of reminding you that the clock never stopped ticking. But right now, under the swirl of lights and the faint hiss of steam vents, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

Ekko’s hand brushed against yours every so often, and though he wasn’t one to initiate touch easily, you could tell he didn’t mind the closeness. He always had this way of being effortlessly cool, his swagger and wit making it seem like nothing fazed him. But you knew him better than most. You saw the weight he carried, the pressure of being a leader, a fighter, and a kid all at once. And tonight, you were determined to remind him what it felt like to just…be.

“Ever think Zaun’s kinda pretty at night?” you mused, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ekko glanced at you, one eyebrow raised, before looking around. “Pretty? Dunno if I’d call it that. More like…gritty with a side of a green glow.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the one waxing poetic about this place,” he shot back, his grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, maybe I’m seeing it through rose-colored glasses. Or maybe I just like walking around with you.”

That earned a chuckle from him, the sound low and warm. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned closer to you. “Well, when you put it that way…” The two of you wandered through winding alleys and across rickety bridges, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil. Every so often, Ekko would point out a shortcut he’d used for one of his time-bending escapades or share a story about an adventure with the Firelights.

But then he led you down a narrow path you hadn’t noticed before, his fingers brushing yours briefly to guide you. At the end of the path, you stepped into a beautiful hidden oasis. A rooftop garden tucked away from Zaun’s usual grit and grime. The first thing you noticed was the lights. Strings of mismatched lanterns crisscrossed the space, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. Tiny fairy lights were woven through the vines that climbed up makeshift trellises, their warm flicker like little stars in the night. The plants themselves were a mix of scrappy greenery and surprisingly vibrant flowers, their colors popping against the muted tones of the city below.

“Woah…” you breathed, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a spot I’ve been working on.”

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filled with awe.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from yours. “Figured it’d be nice to have a place to get away, y’know? Somewhere quiet.”

You stepped forward, taking it all in. A small wooden bench sat in the center of the garden, its surface worn but sturdy. Around it, the plants swayed gently in the cool breeze, their leaves catching the light just enough to shimmer.

“Come on,” Ekko said, his hand lightly brushing the small of your back as he guided you to the bench. “I didn’t bring you here just to stand around.”

You sat down, the wood creaking softly under your weight. Ekko settled beside you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the lights and the distant sounds of Zaun filling the space. It was a working pattern. There was always a comfortable silence between the two of you.

“How long have you been working on this?” you asked softly.

“Couple months,” he said, leaning back with his arms stretched across the bench. “Takes a while to get plants to grow in a place like this. But I dunno…it feels good to build something, y’know? Instead of just tearing things down.”

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his voice. Ekko didn’t let people see this side of him often though. I mean this was the boy who dreamed of a better Zaun, the one who carried the weight of his community on his shoulders.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “Just like you.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and a little shy. “You’re laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just telling the truth,” you said, closing your eyes as his warmth seeped into you.

The two of you sat like that for a while, wrapped up in the stillness of the garden. Ekko’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, like you were always meant to fit together.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For, y’know…being here.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Of course,” you said softly while winking. “You’re worth it, Ekko.”

His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, the golden light casting shadows across his face. Then he smiled. It was real, genuine smile that made your chest feel light and full all at once.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you leaned into him.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little muffled. “It is.”

There it was again, the comfortable silence. The garden was quiet, bathed in the golden light of the mismatched lanterns. You rested your head on Ekko’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you. His fingers were still intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing small, absentminded circles against your knuckles.

It was peaceful, almost too perfect for Zaun, where tranquility was a rare luxury. The hum of distant machinery and the faint chatter of the streets below were a backdrop to your own private world. You thought this was it, that the night couldn’t get any better. But Ekko had other plans.

Suddenly, he shifted away from you, his weight leaving the bench as he stood. His warmth leaving your body. You blinked up at him, confused as he turned to face you, his signature grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He extended a hand toward you, palm up, the glow of the garden lights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice soft but brimming with an irresistible playfulness.

You tilted your head, a laugh escaping you. “Dance? Here?”

“Why not?” He wiggled his fingers, urging you to take his hand.

You hesitated, glancing around. “Ekko, there’s no music.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Reaching into his pocket, Ekko pulled out a small, beaten up speaker, a relic salvaged from some forgotten corner of Zaun. He fiddled with it for a moment before a warm melody crackled to life, filling the air with a gentle rhythm.

You stared at him in disbelief, your lips parting in surprise. “You planned this?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but failing miserably as a proud smile broke through. “Maybe.”

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his palm grounding you. “Alright, Clockstopper,” you teased. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Ekko pulled you to your feet, guiding you to the center of the garden. The music swelled around you, soft and sweet, a contrast to the chaos of Zaun. His other hand found its place on your waist, and he held you close, his movements easy and unhurried. At first, you tried to match his rhythm, your steps tentative as you followed his lead. But it wasn’t long before your foot accidentally landed on his.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, pulling back slightly.

Ekko winced dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “You’re killing me here,” he said, his voice laced with mock pain.

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Baby?” He laughed, spinning you unexpectedly. You stumbled slightly but caught yourself, the sound of your shared laughter echoing in the garden.

The two of you continued like that, swaying and spinning under the lanterns. Every so often, you’d step on his foot again, and he’d exaggerate his reaction, making you laugh until your cheeks hurt. But then, as the song shifted to a slower melody, Ekko’s movements became gentler, more deliberate. He pulled you closer, your bodies impossibly near. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the faint scent of zauns atmosphere lingering on him. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The golden light reflected in his eyes, making them shimmer like they held their own constellation. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something raw and real that made your heart stutter.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with everything words couldn’t express. Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around your waist. The world seemed to tilt, the glow of the lanterns and the soft hum of the music swirling around you in a haze of light and sound.

Time felt irrelevant—ironic, considering who you were with. All that mattered was the way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lights around you. Smiling, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too,” you said, the words as natural as breathing.

Ekko grinned, his hands tightening around your waist as he pressed a series of quick, playful kisses to your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. Each kiss was accompanied by a soft giggle from you, his affection spilling over in a way that was so uniquely him.

“Ekko, stop,” you laughed, trying to pull away as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Never,” he said, his voice full of mock defiance as he caught your lips in another kiss.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. The music played on, the lights flickered, and Zaun’s ever-present hum seemed softer, almost distant. As the night stretched on, you found yourselves back on the bench, your head resting on Ekko’s shoulder as he absentmindedly played with your fingers. The garden felt like a dream, a little slice of peace carved out of the chaos. And in that moment, with Ekko by your side and the glow of the lanterns above you, everything felt right. Almost perfect.

banners. @anitalenia

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

[chiefbeifongcanrailme]

The Sphere's Embrace

I have officially finished posting to @linbeifongsweek

Here’s my submission for day 8 of Lin Beifong’s Week. You can also find it on AO3.

Pairing: Lin Beifong x Bumi

Rating: M

Art made by JadeLotus💚

The Sphere's Embrace was a cunning and formidable trap, designed to ensnare unsuspecting trespassers within its metallic grasp. At first glance, it appeared to be a massive spherical structure, looming ominously within the chamber it guarded. Its surface gleamed with a metallic sheen, betraying no hint of the danger that lay within.

It all started because because everybody loved to go out of their way to make Lin's life harder than it already was. But really, this was far from circumstantial. There was a logical series of events that had thrust Lin into this position. 

After defeating the Red Lotus, it was a rather grievous few months when Korra departed for the South Pole for her recovery. Because spirits were down, and instead of joy in the face of victory, Republic City was facing melancholy in the wake of a shattered Avatar, and all of Air Temple Island was living within the gloomy waves of despair. Because the new airbending master, Jinora came to the rescue by taking inspiration from the glory of the Yangchen festival and organized a little ritual for Korra's speedy recovery followed by a festival of merriment for all the attendees. 

Because her moronic sister said "two Beifongs are better than one" and brought her own incredibly ridiculous-looking portable prison in case any wandering Red Lotus members decided to crash their party.

The Sphere's Embrace consisted of a colossal spherical shell, constructed from reinforced platinum and intricate mechanical components concealed within its surface. Suspended above the ground, it rested upon a sturdy base, its polished exterior offering no indication of the mechanisms hidden beneath. At the center of the Sphere's Embrace lay a cozy bed, tempting weary travelers with the promise of rest. However, this seemingly inviting surface harbored a deadly secret. Embedded within the floor of the threshold, were pressure-sensitive sensors, finely tuned to detect the slightest weight. 

It was because of that final security sweep Lin did towards the end of the ritual. Because Lin just had to check out that stupid giant ball-sac of a prison that was supposedly impervious to any and all bending. Su wouldn't admit it, but Lin was certain this had Kuvira's blueprints all over. But finally, It was because she saw a pair of naked butt cheeks galivanting inside the prison. 

Lin had hopped in without a thought- ready to fight the prisoner that had already taken his rightful place.

Upon detecting the presence of an intruder, the Sphere's Embrace sprung into action with lethal precision. Bi-parting doors, seamlessly integrated into the spherical shell, would snap shut with thunderous force, sealing the victim within its metallic confines. The doors would lock with a resounding clang, rendering escape impossible from within. Those trapped within must await the mercy of their captors or the intervention of an external force to secure their freedom.

"Lin!" the naked man, she now recognized to be Bumi, shrieked in unison with the snapping doors. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—" 

Lin was panting as she frantically ran across the room looking for vulnerabilities in construction. Naturally, she failed in bending the platinum walls. The prison was well thought out, a real testament to Kuvira's cunning. The bed in the center was made entirely of wood and unbendable materials. The counter top had a straw bowl with some bananas to keep the prisoners alive, a fruit with not enough water content to use to cut the platinum walls with pressure. Certainly, even lightning couldn't break a metal this dense and durable- maybe slightly damage it- but Suyin made sure it was flawless.

"What are you doing in here?" she managed to berate. 

Thankfully, he had the decency to cover his genitals with his hands. "I just wanted to have a look at—"

"And where are your clothes?" 

"They're outside- are- are we trapped in here?" he asked, cowering. 

"What do you think, Wan Shi Tong?" 

"Sheesh there's no need to be—”

"We're fucking trapped in Suyin's bending-proof platinum nut sac!" 

"Relax, Lin. Someone's going to notice we're missing and—”

"No?!" she cried, a pitch higher, "they're going to assume we left- like the rest of the crowd." 

"Tenzin's going to notice I'm not—”

"Is he?" she screamed. "Or is he going to assume you bailed to go party in the city like always?" 

"Okay you have a point there," he admitted. "But—”

"Oh, fuck me, Bumi—”

"Gladly! I'm ready. You're the one still wearing clothes," he said all too seriously.

"Stop trying to—” Lin shook her head and swallowed on her dry throat, dumbfounded. "What did you say?" 

"It would be a honor to fuck you," he said, bowing in reverence. Lin couldn't decide if her heart was racing because her blood was boiling or she was actually considering his offer. Bumi had totally transformed since his retirement- he looked good, but more importantly, he looked good naked. His body was toned like never before- leaner but just as burly as he used to be in his prime. 

She realized she hadn't responded and she didn't want him getting ideas. "Shut up, Bumi." 

"Fine, your loss," he shrugged. 

Bumi sat atop at the foot of the bed while Lin continued to look around. He observed the way she scuttled about, her eyes were blown wide with frenzy governing her every movement. It had been a while since he had spent any one-on-one time with Lin, and the last time he did, he had almost asked her out to dinner. You see, he wasn't lying about it being an honor to fuck her. He meant it. And that nonchalant candor was the best way conceal those jitters he felt around her. 

"How are you not freaking out?" she asked. 

"I mean, we're trapped." he said. "There's no way out. And there's no point in freaking out." 

Lin didn't stop to roll her eyes like Bumi imagined. Instead she was shaking. And suddenly, he remembered. Lin had always been a little claustrophobic. 

"Hey, why don't you have a seat for a moment." 

She gave him an incredulous look. 

So he stood up, hand still against his crotch so as to not flash Lin as he made his way over to her. "Relax, Linny. I'm going to get us out of here, okay?" 

"Bumi—" 

"Shhhhh," he said, rubbing her arm affectionately. "Why don't you lie down on the bed for a moment?" 

"Bumi, I—" 

"Just one moment. A tiny one, please?" 

Lin sighed, but she relented. As she got to the bed, covered in red bedsheets and a matching duvet, she looked over at Bumi's naked form and then stared at the bed. He had his bare buttocks on these very sheets just a second ago. Somehow, that idea didn't bother as much. He was just Bumi, at the end of the day. Bumi who wore bottomless chaps to his brother's anointment. Bumi who ate and drank like a bottomless pit. Bumi who'd side with her whenever Suyin was being a menace. Bumi, who comforted her after Tenzin ended things with her. And that's when she realized- he was trying to comfort her, before her train of thought left the station with- Bumi whose buttocks she really wanted to grab with a firm—

"On the bed now, Linny." 

She shook her head and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Can you now tell me why you're naked?" 

"Oh," he replied. "I wanted to check this prison out, but if I stepped in- the way you did- it'd shut down. So, I was using airbending to float around and I didn't want my clothes to get in the way." 

"Oh," she commented with surprise in her voice. "That's actually clever." 

"What can I say, I am a clever man, Linny." 

She rolled her eyes. "Can you not call me that?" 

"I don't think I can," he replied. 

When Lin felt a depression on the bed, she glanced to her side to see him smiling down at her. He stroked her hair gently and said, "We'll get you out of here, okay?" 

"Bumi, I'm fine. I just don't want to be stuck in here." 

"Lin, you're brave. And you can be brave every day of your life. But today, you don't have to. I can take care of you." 

She sat up, resting on her palms. "Why are you being so nice to me?" 

Bumi snorted. "I'm always nice to you." 

She couldn't argue there. It wasn't as if Bumi irritated her on purpose. Maybe she could afford to loosen up a little. Maybe she could be nicer to Bumi going forward. He was kind, funny in the way she hated, ridiculous, infuriating, and smart in the silliest ways, but spirits if he wasn't endearing.

"We should really find a way out," she said. 

"Linny, how? Nobody would be able to hear us scream." 

Narrowing her eyes at the nickname, instead of addressing it, she said, "So what now?"

"Try to look at the bright side!" he suggested, jovially. "You're getting uninterrupted Bumi time! And I'm naked and it's okay because I'm hot now. Don't think I didn't see your eyes on my ass." 

Lin's cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, and Bumi took that as his cue to proposition her again. 

"There's a bed too. And it's Suyin's. Why not mark our territory?" 

"Bumi," she whispered. 

His hand slowly traversed the length of her arm. Her eyes thirstily followed the delicate movement of his fingers until they reached her chin, at which point, he used one finger to tilt her head up towards him. 

"Nobody will hear us scream." 

"What if someone does come lurking around here?" 

"Then, I'll hide you under the bed, get rescued naked and give you the perfect window to escape and then never speak about this again." 

Lin couldn't help but smirk. "That does sound enticing." 

"And I'm still not hearing a no," 

Lin grabbed his face and slammed her mouth against his. He hummed when her tongue entered his mouth as his hand roamed up and across her torso. With each hand he squeezed her breasts as she climbed atop him. Lin was ravenous and Bumi was all she craved- and he knew that too. And in no world would he want her any less than she wanted him in that moment. Bumi tightened his arms around her back and tossed her down onto the mattress. She landed with a fluffy thud just as Bumi's lips found her neck. Her hands ruffled through his wild hair. 

Bumi couldn't remember for how long he had wanted this- his brain had turned to mush. He ran one hand down her breasts, straight through the slim gap between her belly and waistband and massaged her inner thigh perfectly- Lin had to moan to let him know. 

"Louder," he growled. 

She did not want to test that hypothesis- because what if someone did hear them? Suyin wasn't perfect. So she pulled his mouth on hers to shut them both up.

And that was how Lin Beifong had found herself quite literally thrust in that position.

She found out about an hour later when nobody came running to the trap, as she came, screaming into glory, that the trap was indeed sound proof. She came and then she came another time- her mind was in lost in the clouds of divine bliss. 

Lin offered up her handkerchief to him to wipe himself up. There was no telling how long they'd been fucking or how late into the night it had now become where they had been laying in bed holding each other. Bumi had been peppering her cheek and shoulder with soft kisses as they fell in and out of sleep. And it wasn't until morning- or so they thought- when they wordlessly began again on a string of kisses. 

Food and water had become all the needs of the sexless. With Lin in his arms, he had everything he needed to survive. 

"I might be getting addicted to you," he whispered by her jaw as he got on top of her. Lin pushed a wild strand of his hair behind his ear before he dipped back down to kiss her. 

"We all have our vices," Lin replied on his mouth. 

"Still wanna get out of here?" 

"You'd have to forcibly pry me out of this place." 

Bumi chortled and doubled down on her. There was something to be said about the way this prison had become their own perfect bubble. It was the embrace of the Sphere's Embrace. Whatever their relationship was outside of this bubble had no hold over them while they ravaged the each other. There were no thoughts of ramifications, no worries of what this meant- it was a pure expression of flooding desire- indomitable, delirious desire. 

Lin placed her hands against the platinum wall over the bed as Bumi rammed into her from behind. His hands were grasping her ass when she led one over her thigh and down in between her legs. He didn't need to be told what to do there, because by now, he knew her body better than he knew his own. 

"I'm getting close," she moaned, as he picked up the pace. His hands were flawlessly menacing her clit, making her whole body scream and sweat with endorphins. Had she known before hand how well their bodies complemented each other, she would've jumped him well before he ever left for the United Forces. 

"I can't tell you how long I've wanted this, Lin," he said, verbalizing her exact thoughts. 

She felt his teeth on her back and then she couldn't resist it anymore. 

"FUCK—" she screamed. "BUMI- I'M—" her voice wavered from a shrill moan into a throaty grunt from the high. 

"Shit," Bumi cussed at the sight before him. 

A sizzling sound broke through both their moans as Bumi crashed on top of her. Her hands had seemingly crumbled and broken through the sturdy walls of their personal bubble. There was now a massive hole in the wall, as the fresh breeze from the Island wafted inside. The nesting warmth of their ecosystem was gone. It was all cool winds. 

Bumi was still recovering, shifting beside her to spoon her from behind as Lin caught her breath. 

"We're free," he coughed. 

Lin whimpered, still getting off the high, unable to register what Bumi was talking about. She was still sensitive, groaning when Bumi rubbed her arm to catch her attention. 

"You broke the wall," he panted. "We're free to leave." 

Catching on, Lin quickly sat up in bed to see that the wall behind the bed had indeed disintegrated. 

"How did... " she stared at her hands in disbelief. 

Bumi sat up too, knitting his eyebrows together. "Did you bend platinum?" 

Lin huffed, not looking away from her hands. "Did I?" 

"I think I did," 

She glanced back up at the wall and then slowly brought her hands to it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling at her element encased within what was known to be the purest form of metal. Bumi admired her naked form as she concentrated and within moments, to his shock, the wall tore open. 

She gaped at him with shock and he returned the same look of incredulity. It was dark outside, which meant that it had been a full day since their entrapment. As far as Lin knew, the Beifongs of Zaofu were living at Air Temple Island during their visit, so a sneaky, quiet exit was prudent. Luckily, Bumi had left his glider and clothes right behind a tree close to the Sphere's Embrace. 

Wordlessly, he got dressed as Lin followed his shadow behind the tree. In a moment, he had his arm around her waist, the other holding up the glider as they took flight. 

Heads down, they were silent the whole way to the city. They hadn't exchanged a single word since they had stepped outside the Sphere's Embrace. It had been a challenging twenty-four hours- especially now that they both fell victim to the phenomenon of some kind of captivity attachment. 

Once they reached the threshold of her house, it was Bumi who finally cleared throat to terminate the silence. They surely had the same thoughts resounding in their minds that neither wanted to be the first to verbalize. 

As she unlocked the door, Bumi stepped forward. "Can I come inside?" 

Lin gave him what he thought to be the sexiest smile he had ever seen. 

He took that as a yes and followed her in, shutting the door behind him. 

Ultimately, while the collapse of the Sphere's Embrace could be a painful and transformative experience into reality, it offered the chance for renewal and the possibility of creating new spheres of embrace that are even more fulfilling and enduring than before. As it turned out, Bumi had found his life-partner in the world's first platinum bender. 

[eazy-group]

Air Tent vs Pole Tent

New Post has been published on https://eazycamping.net/air-tent-vs-pole-tent/

Air Tent vs Pole Tent

Pole tents and air tents are two of the most popular types of wild camping tents among beginners. Each has merits and limitations that can be amplified depending on the location and weather conditions. As such, neither is inherently better for all campers and situations.

If you’re wondering which one is better suited for your needs and preferences, we will share below our rundown of air tents vs pole tents, where you will learn how each type fares in terms of the different aspects and features expected from a high-quality camping tent. By the end of this post, you can feel more confident in choosing the right tent to keep you safe, warm, and dry during your outdoor adventures.

Air tents vs pole tents: comparison

As a guide for novice campers, we are going to compare air tents vs pole tents in this section. You will learn their respective features and how each element can be advantageous or disadvantageous in various camping conditions. We will also share our insights into which of the two will likely be better for those with no or minimal experience in pitching, staying in or dismantling a camping tent.  

Ease of setup and takedown of tent

The engineering principles behind the setup and takedown of pole tents vs air tents are among the most significant differentiators of the two. As the name suggests, a pole tent has multiple poles that must be assembled in a certain way to ensure the tent’s integrity and stability. Some manufacturers simplify the process by colour-coding the poles, but the setup or takedown can take several minutes.

On the other hand, air tents rely on air beams, which are inflated using mechanical or electric pumps. All you have to do is lay the tent on a flat surface free of debris or sharp edges and let the pump do its work. Given this, air tents can be easier to set up or takedown, but their relatively heavier weight makes them more challenging to get out or return to the carry bag.

Tent design

A pole tent is constructed with rigid poles made of fibreglass, aluminium, or other light but sturdy metals. It comes in various sizes and shapes, such as A-frame, dome, or tunnel. Depending on the combination of material and form, a pole tent is designed to be a portable yet reliable companion for backpackers or car campers.

In comparison, an air tent stands up through a complicated system of inflatable air beams. These design elements guarantee simplicity and convenience, but to prevent the occurrence of common inflatable tent problems, the materials used for air tents must be flexible yet thick enough to ensure that they will not be vulnerable to puncture, ripping, or bursting.

Tent stability

Comparing an air tent vs pole tent in terms of stability depends on the wind strength and weather conditions. Air tents are more capable of adapting to stronger wind pressure because of their flexible air beams. However, that could be compromised if a sharp object comes into contact with the tent fabric and creates a hole that causes the affected air beam to deflate.

This is not a significant issue if you stay in a pole tent. However, solid tent poles might bend or break under the pressure of heavy rains or snow, especially if they are made of materials not for 3-season or all-season camping.

Tent durability

With all things considered, an air tent is more durable than a pole tent. It is designed to maintain the optimal air pressure, prevent deflation, and resist the impacts of potentially harmful objects. However, over time and repeated usage, an air tent can lose air as its sealing and valves weaken.

That said, pole tents offer a different level of durability. It possesses higher resistance against abrasions, rough surfaces, or pointed edges. The problem lies mainly in the tent poles, which can become rusty and be more prone to breakage if not maintained properly. It is also more likely to collapse when the rain, snow or wind becomes too much to handle.

Repair and maintenance of tent

Air and pole tents can last for years as long as you practice proper cleaning and care measures. This means cleaning and drying the tent after every use, resealing the seams, and reapplying waterproof coatings. It’s important to note that the structural differences of pole tents vs air tents also affect the type of repair and maintenance required.

For instance, the tent poles must be inspected regularly for any signs of corrosion. Defective poles are usually replaced instead of repaired, as they are cheaper and easier to source. On the other hand, an air tent must be checked for leaks and punctures. Repairing such damages can be done through the provided patch kits. However, extensive damages may require specialised tools and materials to repair the fabric and valves of the air beams.

Tent weight

Pole tents are typically lighter than air tents of similar size and capacity because of their material and the lack of additional components, such as pumps and valves. Not every pole tent is guaranteed to be portable, though. It still depends on the number and material of the pole, wherein aluminium is the lightest, but at the expense of its durability and price.

The exact difference in weight between pole tents and air tents varies depending on the design and construction. On average, it can be around 10 to 15 kilograms. To compensate for the heavier weight, manufacturers design backpack straps or wheeled carry bags that improve air tent portability.

Price of tent

Several beginner campers consider this the most important factor, especially since they do not want to invest much in camping gear yet. As such, pole tents continue to be popular for their more affordable prices and perceived greater value for money.

Another interesting point is how wide the price range is among pole tents. It varies according to the brand, materials, and additional features offered. A survey of the current options in the market shows that air tents tend to be more consistent in pricing, though. That’s likely because most models use similar structural systems and materials for a good balance of durability, comfort, and convenience.

Air tents vs pole tents: the verdict

Both types of camping tents have their pros and cons, so there is no definitive answer that applies to all. We have varied needs and preferences, so it’s a matter of determining which one ticks more boxes than the other.

For example, many inexperienced campers will likely appreciate how easy it is to set up or pack away the air tents. They also offer a greater sense of stability, especially if you’re heading somewhere that is windy or rainy. However, given their price tags, keep in mind that an air tent can be a significant investment for you and may take up more room in your camping budget than you can afford.

That’s where pole tents shine. They are accessible to more people, and with so many models out there, you will have a higher chance of finding one that matches your expectations. If you believe a pole tent is the right call, just remember to maintain your discerning eye to get the best value for money without sacrificing your safety and comfort.

Air tent vs pole tent: the choice lies with you

If you’re planning to go wild camping in the UK, figuring out the answer to air vs pole tents should centre around how you can satisfy your camping needs and budget, given the unique challenges posed by the unpredictable weather and remote locations in the area. This involves carefully researching your preferred nature destinations and analysing what qualities your ideal tent must have.

Are you going somewhere far from the roads or camping facilities? A lightweight pole tent with waterproof fabric and a weather-resistant frame can make your journey more manageable and your nights more comfortable. Are you planning to take the family to the NC500 and witness the beauty of the Scottish coastlines? Pack an air tent in your car’s trunk so that you can spend more time admiring the scenery and spotting the local wildlife.

Feel free to explore your options among all the available air and pole tents. Remember, your tent can spell the difference between a disastrous trip and a wonderful outdoor experience for you and your loved ones. Happy camping!

Air vs pole tents FAQs

Why are air tents so expensive?

The primary reasons for the heftier price tags of air tents can be traced to the high level of convenience and durability they offer. Inflating an air tent takes only a few minutes and requires minimal effort. It is also manufactured with more robust materials that are less likely to develop tears or leaks, especially given that an air tent’s form and stability rely on how well-designed its air beams are.

Are air tents good in the wind?

Yes, air tents can withstand strong winds because of the engineering behind air beams. Not all air tents are made equal, though. Ensure that the model you’re considering is constructed with high-quality materials and has an excellent wind rating. Otherwise, an air tent made from lighter materials will not meet your expectations and may pose a safety risk on a windy day.

Are pole tents or frame tents cheaper?

Pole tents are generally cheaper than frame tents, but both are typically much more affordable than air tents of similar capacities and ratings. Pole tents are priced lower than the other types because of their more straightforward design and lighter build. They have fewer parts, so expect the interior space to be more cramped and less customisable than most frame tents.

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[hqcult]

EYELINER ## suna rintarou

trying to apply his eyeliner would've been easy if only rintarou can keep his hands to himself.

. tw smut, dom suna, established relationship, fingering, oral f receiving, edging, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, mind break, unprotected sex, pwp . wc 4k

"ugh, he's gonna do it again." you mutter, eyeing suna's hand as it skims around your vanity desk for his favorite brand of eyeliner. for some reason everybody naturally finds themself drawn to suna rintarou, even if he was always so stoic and detached. 

you hate how girls would flock around him in parties as they stare at his kohl-lined eyes or at the painted black nail polish whenever you disappear to get a drink, knowing full well what kind of thoughts are running in their heads because you, for sure, thought of him the same way. alright. we get it. your boyfriend can be a hot mofo if he wants to be and his idgaf attitude just adds to the whole appeal.

we get it.

because you love him more than the stars in the galaxy combined, sometimes you can't help but feel jealous when people get too close to him. you really didn't want to be that type of girlfriend but sometimes you just like the assurance that he's all yours and nothing's wrong about that, right? plus, suna seems to exceptionally love when he gets you jealous and feral. he may always pretend otherwise but he loves staking his claim on you just as much as you liked being claimed by him. 

"are you done yet?" you say, staring at him from your bedroom door frame. 

atsumu was throwing a party tonight and you were all dressed up and ready to go, just patiently waiting for your boyfriend. 

suna replies a beat later, not bothering to meet your eyes. "just a minute."

you just want his attention all on you. you don't even want to go to this stupid party and see all these people shamelessly flirting with him even if you were right there by his side. you just want to have some alone time with suna rintarou. 

and you may or may not have just come up with an idea to make that happen.

"where's the eyeliner? the one i always use?"

"it's not there? i know i left it there. wait, let me look." 

you straighten up, walking towards him in your red leather mini skirt that can make any man's eyes sliver down to your ass. 

suna is sitting on your swivel chair, leaning back in a man spread as he clicks his tongue impatiently. he looks good even in a plain shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, his athletic and tall build enough to make any outfit look good.

"are you sure it's not in the drawers?"

"yes, i already checked."

you pout, making a show of muttering "i swore i threw it in here," under your breath as you maneuver around his spread legs to stand in between them, bending forward as you rummage around where he's already looked twice. 

you know he's staring at your ass. suna was never lowkey with how much he loves you in this leather mini-skirt. it's a miracle he hasn't landed a rough spank yet after getting a face full view of your ass. 

"wait a minute, maybe it rolled under my vanity."

so you get down on your knees, making sure your butt grazes the front of his jeans and just like you predicted, suna was half-hard already. 

it was truly such a stroke to your ego but you focus on the task at hand. 

you arched your ass up as you bend down to look for the little tube of eyeliner, slightly shaking it side to side as you "struggle" to get the eyeliner out from underneath the table. 

when your hands feel the cylindrical plastic, you retreat, sitting up straight again and proudly showing your boyfriend the eyeliner in your hands. 

you made sure your eyes were as huge and innocent as they look, kneeling in between his legs, shins tucked in and hands in your lap like a good girl. 

"i found it!"

you could've sworn you've seen his left eye twitch as he stared you down. you've been with him long enough to notice that look in his eyes. what are you playing at, huh?

you wait for him to speak but you can see all the gears turning in his head as he continues to stare at you. 

you wait anxiously for what he's going to do next. maybe he'll make you suck him off, or he'll throw you on the bed, or spank your ass because you were clearly teasing him—

"why don't you put my eyeliner on for me?"

you stand up, opening the tube in as he shuts his eyes. you try not to let your disappointment show too much. fine. maybe you can just have a quickie later while drunk in one of the rooms in the frat house. 

"why are you standing? come sit on my lap while you're doing it."

you were too busy removing the excess product off the brush to notice his eyes had taken a dark turn, contradicting the gentleness of his warm hands as it snakes around the back of your bare thighs pulling you closer. 

"no, i'll mess this—"

"i said sit."

delicious shivers create goosebumps on your skin. 

you know that tone. he only uses it when he's horny and he wants to bend you over. so maybe your game plan did work after all, yet you're staring at him dumbfounded with the eyeliner brush in midair. 

"come sit. i won't repeat myself." he leans back against the chair, manspreading as he waits for you. 

you scramble to straddle his strong thighs, muscles a manifestation of his hard work and dedication to volleyball. it was great to see him in action on the court but you'd rather he flexed those muscles when you ride his thighs. 

you cup his face, getting all up in his personal space to apply the eyeliner. 

you've long grown out of the honeymoon phase but why is your heart beating so damn fast right now?

your hands were shaking, perspiration was building up in your forehead, and you were holding your breath.

"are you nervous?"

"shut up, rin. 'm not."

when the brush first touches the lid of his eyes, a nimble finger traces the expanse of your whole slit over your panties. 

you pull the brush away, hissing in surprise. 

"rintarou—!"

"what?"

his sharp tone isn't what shut you up, it was the hand cupping your sex. the heel of his wrist slowly grazing against your sensitive clit. you drew a sharp breath. he smirks. 

"go on. continue, doll."

you want to hate the teasing lilt in his voice but you know deep down you love it.

you held your breath, diving in once again to the task at hand whilst trying to ready yourself from his ministrations. 

your hand slightly shakes as you start in the middle of his waterline, slowly tracing the bottom part of his eyes before making a small wing at the end. 

you've seen him apply his own eyeliner so much you have this down to an art form. everything would've been easy if only he kept his hands to himself. you try to ignore the digit still feathering over your slit or the hand wrapping around you to bunch your skirt up around the waist. 

for someone whose eyes are closed he's doing a damn good job navigating. but maybe that's how he shows you're his. he knows your body like the back of his hand, he knows what makes you tick, what makes you pant, what makes you moan in ecstasy. 

"i can never resist when you dress up all pretty for me. you know that, right, doll?"

applying the eyeliner to his waterline had been fairly easy. the lash line, on the other hand, proved difficult. especially when suna's upgraded from tracing your pussy lips to dangerously toying with the elastics of your panties, slipping his finger under before stretching it to slap your skin. 

as you try to connect the upper part of the eyeliner to the small wing you made from his waterline, you hissed. 

"why don’t you pull them down?"

he chuckles at your impatience and you slightly pull the brush away as he finally shoves the fabric down. you gasp when the cold hits your wet cunt. the scent of your essence unmistakable and you know suna's holding back from teasing. 

"as you wish, baby."

as suna grows bolder, the more your hands shook as you worked on his other eye. 

just as the tip of the brush touched his left eye's waterline, he pushed two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls in a lazy manner that was so distinctly him. he curls his fingers when he fucks it in before dragging them against your walls when he pulls it out, slightly scissoring you. he uses his other hand to draw figure 8’s against your clit. 

you swallow, trying your best to keep your hand still as a surgeon but you see the jagged little curves where your jolts of pleasure were too strong. 

you never should've provoked him to shove your underthings down, at least then you wouldn't have to suffer through his fingers. they were just so long, so thick, and so experienced when it comes to pleasuring you that you can never touch yourself anymore without craving suna's own fingers instead. 

you bit your lip, the hand that was cupping his jaw tightening as you try to fix the little mistakes here and there, hoping suna won't see them when he inspects your work in the mirror. it doesn't matter that he purposely set you up to fail. there'll be consequences if he isn't satisfied with what you did. may god have mercy on your horny little soul if rintarou thinks you were a bad girl. 

"you just hate losing, don't you?" you hiss, jolting when you feel him slap your cunt. your knees nearly buckled and you almost fell off the chair if not for his sturdy hand on the small of your back. 

"what are you talking about? i'm just fingering my girl like a winner."

just as you started outlining his left lash line, suna shoves a 3rd finger into your sopping cunt. loud squelching noises fill the room as your walls pulsate around his thick digits. the metal rings he wore brushing against your pussy lips as he fucks you knuckle-deep with three fingers. involuntarily, your own hips started moving to match his pace, shamelessly thrusting up everytime he shoves his fingers in.

he knows you so well. he doesn't even need to look at your face, he can feel you out by the noises you make. so good. so good. his fingers feel so good. fuck. fuck. fuck.

until he pulls them out of your sopping pussy. 

"rin," you whine, folding into his shoulder as you struggle to balance your kneeling self on the chair. you blindly reach down for his hand, urging him to put his fingers back in. "rin, please don't stop. please please please—”

"i told you to put my eyeliner, not fuck yourself on my fingers," he leans back on the chair, eyes still shut close while licking his digits clean. 

your lips press into a thin line, eyes dilated as a whine starts to threaten to pass your lips. you're sick of whatever game this is, you just want him to fuck you silly already! but as if sensing your thoughts, suna clicks his tongue and speaks. "hurry it up. we have a party to get to."

without his fingers to plug your cunny, your slick runs down the insides of your thighs. it's slow descent against your skin making goosebumps run up your arms, shivering as the cold hits your bare cunt. 

suna must've known your anguish, he could feel his jeans getting soaked but he didn't care and you wish to punch that smug smirk off his pretty face. 

your fingers stilled when you cupped his cheeks and leaned in to start applying a thin stroke of eyeliner to his water line. with a simple flick of the wrist you ended it with a little wing, just like how your boyfriend likes it. now, you just have to do his lash line and—

you let out an audible gasp when his fingers started feeling around your thighs, having an inkling idea of what he's tryna look for. true to what you expected, he traces the line of your dripping slick up your inner thighs until his fingers graze your nether lips, successfully collecting your essence. 

you stare entranced when suna brings them up to his lips, eyebrows furrowed and almost moaning aloud because of your taste. the fact that his eyes are closed made you want him even more. his fingers pop out of his mouth, but you get the feeling it wasn't enough. he wants more. suna wants you under his mercy. he wants to taste and ruin you until you're fucked out and lying in a pretty mess on the bed sheets. 

"so fucking sweet, my baby. you're this desperate for me? for my fingers?"

you snapped. you threw the makeup elsewhere in the room (though not before screwing it shut) before diving down to kiss him on the lips. all lust-filled and rough as you both channel the desires you have for each other. maybe suna was at his tipping point too, noting that he doesn't even bother to push you away. 

with his strong arms he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his torso, never breaking the kiss before literally throwing you down on the bed, knocking the air out your lungs. 

"rin!"

"whoops."

he's kneeling before the bed, the sheets ruffling when he pulls you to the edge by your calves, hot breath against your sex making you squirm. 

"my pretty thing," the kitten lick against your pussy drove you crazy, desperately bucking your hips up and suna chuckles condescendingly. "but such a bad fuckin' girl, aren't ya?"

you yelp when he slaps the side of your thigh. 

"who said you could kiss me?"

he pinches your clit hard as he enters your line of sight. suna has never seen you this pretty and desperate for him before. sweat making your skin glow, lips raw from your biting, eyes conveying your every lust-filled thought about him. the sight of you so riled up makes his dick ache and he wants so badly to fuck you already but bad girls don't get what they want just yet. you have to earn it. 

"i asked you a question. who the fuck told you that you could fucking kiss me?" the acid in his voice contrasts the gentle way he caresses the spot on your thigh where he had hit you. 

"no one."

you sob in pleasure when his hot tongue licks a stripe up your pussy before suckling on your clit. once. twice. sucking particularly hard on the third. before running his tongue swiftly over the bundle of nerves and kitten licking his way down your pussy lips. your thighs were shaking so hard he had to pin them down. he knows it's a sign that you're close, not that he's surprised, he's been stimulating your body for minutes now it was amazing you haven't cummed yet. 

but then he stops.

a thread of your slick dribbling down his chin as those cat eyes of his stare you down. he watches, enchanted by how your chest rises and falls. another sweet release he snatched away from you.

"i thought so. what does that make you?"

amazing how he manages to sound so normal, conversational even while he's literally edging you like there's no tomorrow. what do you expect? it's his favorite punishment. he gets to see you sob and beg for him like there's nothing in your mind but his cock and he loves it so much. loves seeing you bend and break for him to please. 

you sniffle, arm coming up to hide the frustrated tears in your eyes. "been… been a bad girl."

a hand slaps your thighs, brutal. eyes on rintarou when answering his questions. your eyes shoot up. 

"and who's bad girl have you been?"

"yours."

this time he reaches forward to tweak your pebbled nipples. the sudden cold of the pads of his fingers making you gasp and spasm. your boyfriend straddles you and you shiver at the head of his glistening cock leaving trails on top of your thighs. but he doesn't make another move. when you sneakily try wiggling your hips for your sex to graze his dick, he slapped your thigh without holding back. you doubt it won't start leaving a handprint. you wait with bated breath when he grabs hold of his cock, the head angry and dripping, the only proof of his also growing desire for you. 

when he directs the head for it to graze your nether lips, you almost cried another fresh batch of tears. his hand quickly brushes up to wipe it away, though not before feeling his dick twitch. you know how much he loves seeing you cry from the overwhelming pleasure he can give you. 

"last time i checked, my name isn't yours. didn't i tell you to answer in full sentences when i'm fucki—"

"suna! suna rintarou! i've been sun-suna rintarou's bad girl!"

suna ducks to mark your neck and torso. he feels the goosebumps forming on your body. the heat enveloping the two of you as you both quickly shed any remaining pieces of clothing. he kisses you. sloppy. nothing but teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance as he cradles your face with his big hands, feeling the mushroom head of his cock grazing your thighs.

usually he'd appreciate you not cutting him off mid-sentence but he too has reached his own limits and right now all he can think about is drilling you to the mattress. "rin, please!" you sob, arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

"shh. yes, doll. i hear ya." 

you were dripping wet enough that all it took is one deep thrust for him to bottom-out. usually you're quite hesitant when rintarou's rawing you but at this point right now, you doubt fucking with a condom would've felt this good. no thin plastic whatsoever that's separating you from him. when he starts to move, you both moan in ecstasy. the bed creaking under the weight of you both as he pistons his dick inside. "you feel so good, doll. so fucking wet and tight. look how wet you are. dripping for my cock, huh? this all for me? answer me!"

you hardly register his voice, the pleasure you've been craving since minutes ago now being crashed down upon you. it's overwhelming and you don't want it any other way. 

"yes," you pant. the tears still leaking from your eyes as you claw at his biceps. "yes. all-all for you, r-rin! just for you!"

he stubbornly keeps hitting the spot that'll make you keen and whine, suna forcing your hips down and sitting up with his palms at the sides of your head. he wants to see you come undone, he'd love to grab his phone and make this memory permanent but he doubts his camera can capture the real deal. your moans and pleas reaching his ears, spurring him on, the beautiful way your back arches of the mattress, the way you physically shook in pleasure and you screamed and worshipped his name.

"rin! oh my god, rin! fuck. 'm close," your voice breaks, hiccuping from the onslaught of tears you can't hold back as blinding pleasure grips you in a tight vice.

suna comes down to snake his arms around you, pulling you infinitely closer as one of his hands supports your lower back, manually moving your hips to match his frantic thrusts. "why you crying? bad girls should be tough, right? aren't—shit—aren't you a bad girl? hmm? bad girls like you shouldn't be crying."

you shake your head, looking pretty and desperate as you meet his eyes. "no, i'm not a bad—"

"yes. you are," you groan, his thrusts particularly hard to shut you up and make a point. "you're a very, very bad girl. you don't listen to me at all. bad girls don't even deserve to cum."

"no! no! rin, please!" you say, a blubbering mess as you bury your forehead into his neck, licking and suckling at his skin to get in his good side. "i'll be good. i promise! please, let me cum. rin! please, i'll be good. i'll be good! only your good—ah."

"you fucking bet you're my good girl," he hissed, biting your shoulder before moaning, pitched and wanton as it threatens to snap the stretched cord inside of you. but not yet. you can't. not unless he says so. "it's me that's making you feel this good. this is my pussy. my plaything. repeat what i said—doll! repeat what i said."

you cried, screaming in frustration as his cock stills inside of you and you know he won't move until you oblige. "this is…" you hiccup. "rin-rintarou's pu-pussy. i'm rintarou's play-plaything."

"what was that?" he asks, hips starting to rut against you again in full force. the headboard violently hitting the walls. when your hands scramble to cling onto something, you accidentally shove something off the bed but you couldn't care less. "louder, doll. i want the whole fucking neighborhood to hear you."

"this is rintarou's pussy. i'm rintarou's plaything." you say in your normal speaking voice, albeit shaky and almost incomprehensible as he holds you firm against him, his cock embedding it's shape and size into your sopping walls.

"louder!"

he hoists you up into a sitting position, his hips fucking up towards you and you only realize he did it when you see the window situated meters behind you two. curtains-drawn, open for the night breeze to billow in. he wasn't kidding. suna rintarou wants the neighbors to hear how good you're getting rawed. he wasn't kidding. he was not kidding.

"go on," he whispers, breathy and teasing. "you'll do it. you're a good girl for me arentcha?"

fuck. "this is rintarou's pussy! i'm rintarou's plaything!"

he licks a stripe up your neck, hands coming around your neck as he whispers into your ear the words you've been dying to hear. "cum, baby."

and your orgasm surges through your whole body in violent jolts, thick ropes of cum squirting out your pussy as you distantly hear him groaning, your walls tightening and sucking him in with every aggressive thrust. rintarou quickly finishes after you, teeth embedding themselves into your shoulder as he groans. you knew bruises will form and you're going to be sore as a bitch but you don't fucking care.

"rin, i love you." you say, grabbing a hold of his face as you stare deep into his eyes. and you don't understand why there's doubt clouding in your head when he takes a beat later to answer, when really, he just can't help the sudden wave of emotions festering in his stomach as he meets the gravity of your gaze. the love and devotion in your eyes as he can only hope that he could translate his emotions through his eyes, too.

he smiles, leaning in to give you a kiss. it's sweet and gentle, completely unlike the one he gave you a few minutes ago when in the throes of pleasure. no. you feel every bit of his love for you in this one kiss and you don't know why you ever doubted yourself, doubted him. you've been together for so long and you're it for him. 

"i love you, too."

but leave it to your darling rintarou to ruin the moment.

"but you'll never apply my eyeliner ever again."

. a/n » this was so self-indulgent im sorry lmao

[saturnsstufff]

The Empress (pt.I)

Hello! This is a C!Technoblade X reader, however its a tad bit of a AU mixed with the dream smp, and the Smp Earth. I had heavy inspiration from ClearMiller’s Animatic on youtube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdGImEfG4Mk  (there is the link! its amazing I so I hightly recommend checking it out!)

I hope you enjoy! -Saturn

warnings: mentions blood

words: 1,317

pt.I pt.II 

   "Have you herd of the Antarctic Empire?"

   The soft voice had startled you a bit. To used to the clank and ring of your hammer bouncing off the anvil. You spared him a glance to show you were aware of his presence. The question hung in the air as your father slowly shuffled through the door. The limp in his step evident. You hummed in agreement, not taking your eyes off the anvil before you. Not wishing to burn yourself or ruin your work. The Empire was the largest and most well known. Many of the people that resided there were labeled as dangerous. To this day the rumors stood that the country was built upon bloodshed. There leader, the Emperor, was the one everyone feared the very most. The glowing blade in your hand weighed heavy, keeping you mindful as you stuck the heated metal. The sheer warmth radiating from your craft had sweat beads running down your forehead, causing stray hairs to cling to your face.

   "To be fair i believe everyone has nowadays" you hit the blade again, with a stasifying "Clink" causing sparks to fly off. You worked the metal with ease, almost as if was made of clay, bending it to where you pleased.

   The elder man's eyes flickered between her and the blade. The heat from the blade, and the flames from the the forge caused a warm atmosphere. Light dancing everywhere on the stone walls, Illuminating the your face as it contorted into a thought. "Why do you ask?" You inquired. Pausing your hits on the blade as to not miss hit or possibly hit a finger. You lifted your head with a sigh, wiping the sweat from your brow, facing your father.

   "The Generals have sent a request to every small village black smith." The man ran a aged hand over his beard, as he paused. Slowly sitting on a discarded stool. No longer able to stand long due to his pain. "They would like a fine blade. Handcrafted out of the best material we have access to" he cleared his throat. You could tell he was weary of informing you. "If you choose to offer a blade, you will be payed handsomely they so said, but on the condition that its hand delivered"

   ah yes, there's the catch.

   Your face contorted briefly, "hand delivered? Are they crazy? They live in the middle of a ice cube" you scoffed. Even if the idea of good pay interested you, Your father was respectfully definitely out of commission for work. After the raid that terrorized your small village, many of the men from your village were left injured, some beyond repair. Your father although luckily alive, was one of the ones left with permanent damage. "Why don't they ask there own smiths to craft them one" you placed the blade down fully, walking to a stool by your father, figuring this is a good enough time to take a break.

   He hummed amused "well word is they don't have the resources to make said weapons, sure iron maybe, but there looking for something much stronger.". Everyone knew Diamonds were the best material you could have, however you were not from Africa, so diamonds were not as lucky. You watched him, your father wouldn't have brought this up for no reason.

   "Right" you paused trying to think of a way to ask the meaning of this conversation, ultimately just choosing to be blunt. "Why bring this up?".

   Your father rubbed his hands together, a nervous habit he possessed. " (y/n) you have a gift. No matter what material your given you pour your heart and your strength into it. Your blades are nothing short of amazing". Pride filled your heart at his words. Praise from him meant the world to you. Where your mother praised your work daily. Even if she found your craft boy-ish, your fathers praise was rare. Only voicing it when you did something truly magnificent. "I was hoping you would craft a blade and deliver it. If not for your name, do it for mine. The money would really help us." His eyes were kinder, somewhat pleading.

   "You... want me to enter a blade...?" You worded it carefully. Thinking on what he said. He gave a simple nod as a response. "You don't seriously mean.." his face in that moment said it all. He wanted you to, you didn't have to. But it was obvious the nudge was present. "Do I have time to think about it?" Your father nodded again.

   "I'll show you the letter, your choice doesn't have to be now. However, since you are of age you can freely travel, so I thought maybe it would interest you. Since young girls seem to have a knack for adventure. Again, if you do not choose to I understand." He rested a steady hand on your shoulder for reassurance.

   The talk with your father had your mind restless for the next two weeks to come. After reviewing the letter, you were able to determine they would pay you to bring your crafted weapon. If your blade was made well enough they also would buy it off you for a large sum. You were torn. the money would greatly help your parents, not only that but, your village was near desolate. Depending on the sum given the money could go towards buildings and repairs. However, if you stayed you wouldn't have to leave your parents, and have to battle the climates to get your weapon there. after all that was the biggest problem you were facing. 

   Soon you made your mind up, you would craft a blade. you would craft the best blade they had ever laid their eyes on. You gathered your materials and what you deemed fit, Diamonds and Netherite. You had come across Netherite when trading for materials. The gentleman you bought them off said it was a strong material if used properly. However, he was never able to find the correct use for the strange material. Luckily a mistake you made ages ago with testing, turned out to be the correct mixture needed to make Netherite what it was claimed to be. For what you were aware no one used Netherite, for what you were going to use it for, you hoped that your new material would prove useful, and as strong as the man had claimed.

   At that you had pushed yourself and got to work. putting your literal blood, sweat, and occasional tears into this blade.

   The shear weeks trying to prefect this monster of a sword had definitely taken a toll. you were tired. Yet you still had to prep and ready yourself for your long aching trip to the empire. with the blade finished, it was a pure work of art at that. The blade itself was black, the glittering of purple and a pearlescent blue danced with the light when you moved it. The hilt was just as sturdy as the blade, the handle wasn't uncomfortable, wrapped in leather and ensured for the possible long term use. You were proud. 

   You put the sword into the sheath. carefully wrapping it up in a cloth to insure it will not be damaged. from then you moved to packing. you packed clothes, and heavy ones at that, then little other things you think you may need. you genuinely had no idea how long this trip would take. 

   After talking to a nearby harbor you were able to secure a ride to the empire, with the payment of labor. so when you were ready for your trip, you lovingly said your goodbyes to your neighbors, and your parents. Your father had a hard time saying goodbye, but he also knew you would make him so very proud. with everything now set in stone you were on your way to the Antarctic Empire.

[thalia-amongst-the-thorns]

Whumptober No. 6 - Screams from Across the Hall

Back again for your daily dose of whump! Still chugging along with the supernatural story last seen in Whumptober No. 5.

For now, let’s see how resident werewolf Owen is coping...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pulse racing in his ears, Owen rolled up the right sleeve of his shirt to expose the scarred skin of his residual elbow and cautiously pressed it against the metal doorknob. Immediately cold electricity surged through him at the point of contact and Owen yelped, stumbling back. Definitely silver. Not just the knob, but the surrounding locking mechanism too by the looks of it. 

Owen stretched out his arm, trying to shake off the lingering pain piercing through it like needles of ice. The reaction was always worse the closer it was to a full moon. During a new moon phase he could even handle Signora Rottelo’s silver and mother of pearl inlaid jewelry box with only mild discomfort. But with less than three hours until the full moon rose, touching the stuff was like handling acid.

Sweat slicking his palm, Owen worked his way through the bedroom, opening bureau drawers, checking under the mattress, feeling for any mysterious seams along the bare walls that would hint at hidden cabinets or doors, but came up empty handed. Not that he’d expect a serendipitous key to be laying around, but it would be a shame to overlook one should it exist. Someone had also gone through the trouble of emptying out his pockets, and Owen shivered at the thought of unknown hands crawling over him.

A sudden queasy ripple passed through his body and Owen groaned, bending double as bones creaked ominously and meaty bits shifted around inside of him.

What should he do? What could he do? The bedroom door was sturdy, but not impossible to break through in his current state. It’d be easy enough to avoid the silver parts, and even if not, silver burns would heal with time. But if he broke through… then what? Assumedly this was a house of some kind, which either meant more people were inside it or there was a whole neighborhood full of potential victims outside the front doors. He did still have about two and a half hours before he Changed. Enough time to run away from civilization, to seclude himself in nearby woods and minimize the damage he could do. Maybe. Or maybe he’d run out and find he was at the heart of a city, a jungle of concrete and metal and bodies pressed in on him like so much penned sheep.

If he stayed put then his captor, assumedly the woman with the soft voice, was as good as dead. So would anyone else in the house. The thought scared Owen. Such certain brutality he would commit but be unaware of doing. But there was apparently a demon to contend with, one in his captor’s service if she was to be believed…

A scream sliced through his divided thoughts and Owen’s head snapped towards the sound. The voice was familiar, a painful rasp from somewhere in the depths of the house but which Owen’s sensitive ears picked up on at the edges of his hearing. Chest tight with dread Owen rushed over and pressed his ear to the opposite wall.

“Hello,” he bellowed, trying to be heard through who knew how many layers of wooden walls and furnishings. “Hello, is someone there?” He didn’t say a name for fear of fate taking his suggestion.

A moment of silence that wasn’t really, his ears picking up on the creak of shifting floorboards, pacing footsteps, a sticky thing being put down. 

Then, Owen?

“Val,” Owen yelled in surprise at his friend’s voice echoing faintly through his mind. Not who he had been expecting, and relief flooded Owen’s chest quickly followed by a different kind of fear. “Val, are you okay? Do you know what’s going on?”

There was an uncomfortable sensation of… something grasping at Owen’s mind, like a hand scrambling for purchase on a slick cliff’s edge, accompanied by a jumble of mumbled half words in Val’s voice and a sudden spike of sourceless pain in Owen’s throat, a burning thirst that made an unpleasant kinship with the pangs of the Change already tormenting his body.

“Val I- I didn’t catch that,” Owen called, pressing his ear more firmly against the wall as if that would help him better receive a psychic message.

Sorry, Val said, the word faint but giving the mental impression of being yelled through a long tunnel. I think you’re testing the limits of my range.

“Yell again, I’ll hear you!”

Ah, well, that wasn’t exactly me, Val clarified and again Owen felt that searing pain in his throat that wasn’t really his own. I’m in a room with Raquel and she’s… she’s lost a lot of blood. She tried to explain how to make a tourniquet but I fucked it up, put it in the wrong spot or something and–

Val’s voice warbled away into silence and Owen roared in distress. He’d known it was Raquel’s voice. He’d heard her scream in agony from visions enough times that the sound was etched into his memory. But now she was injured, bleeding out in a room with Val, and Owen thought of the pain in his throat that had disappeared along with Val’s projected voice and terror and sympathy clawed at his insides for what he knew Val was fighting against and what Raquel had no choice but to endure being trapped with.    

“Val,” Owen bellowed, aware of the sound of footsteps fast approaching his door and the accompanying red human smell tantalizing his nose again. “Val, what’s going on? Is Raquel okay?”

“What are you doing,” his captor snapped from the other side of the door, voice no longer soft and smug. “Knock that racket off at once!”

“You have my friends,” Owen continued to bellow, and there was something cathartic in the noise. “You’ve kidnapped my friends and one of them is injured!”

A moment of hesitation, perhaps as she wondered how he’d found out about this bit of information from a locked room, before she responded coldly, “That’s none of your concern.” 

Something inside of Owen snarled at her callous tone, drove him forward to pound on the door so that it shook in its frame and prompted a pig-like squeal from his captor just on the other side. The orange smell of fear mingled with the red. Was it Owen’s imagination, or were his teeth sharper as his lips pulled back over them?

“It is! And I may not know what you’re planning here, but I’m guessing it needs all of us to be alive to work. Otherwise we’d all be dead already.” Owen took in a steadying breath, let it out through clenched teeth, tried to make his voice calm and reasonable like his sister’s. Indisputable. “You need Raquel alive, at least for longer than she will be if only Val’s there to help her. Put me in the same room as them and I can help. Stabilize her until you don’t need us anymore.”

A pause wherein his captor’s heartbeat was like thunder in Owen’s keen ears. “I thought you wanted to escape your cage, beast? What happened to all the hollow words about getting away from here so you wouldn’t hurt anyone? Surely being in the same room as your friends of all people is the last thing you want.”   

On cue another spasm rocked through Owen’s limbs, twisting muscles so that he had to bite back a scream. Less than two hours now. Less than two hours until everyone in this house was dead. But Raquel already had less time than that. And Owen had heard the undercurrent of panic in Val’s thoughts, felt a hint of the unbearable thirst he was enduring. They were in trouble and if Owen could help then there was no question here. And if things got bad… well, then Val would know what to do.

“If I don’t help, Raquel will be dead long before I Change,” Owen reasoned. “If I’m with her to help slow down her blood loss she at least has that much more time. And so do you for whatever you’re planning.”

Silence. The sound of fingers tapping.

“I promise not to fight back or run away,” Owen begged, forehead pressed to the cool wood of the door. “Please, please let me help them.” 

More silence, every second grating on Owen’s already frayed nerves. Eventually there was a rustle of fabric, footsteps as his captor shuffled away from the door and stopped.

“I have need of you, Shuelat,” she whispered, and immediately there was a rushing sound of a high wind that came to an abrupt stop and her red human scent was joined by something smelling of orange interwoven with streaks of gold. Warm and vibrant, a living smell touched with the bitter notes of ashes from a bonfire and sun soaked sand. The same smell from right before Owen had been knocked unconscious.

“Yes, Mistress.” A clipped masculine voice. Smooth English accent in contrast to the woman’s American one.

“I want you to take the beast and put him with the others,” she said in hushed tones. A zipper being undone, something small being taken out. “If he tries anything, use all of it. There should be enough this time to keep him unconscious until the moon fully rises.”    

Owen imagined a syringe of ketamine exchanging hands and shivered.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You didn’t tell me the woman was awake,” his captor groused, and Owen recognized the critical tone of someone who made sure to maintain a healthy distance between themselves and the “help”.

“I was unaware she was, Mistress.”

“Honestly, decades of service and you still can’t think past the nose on your face,” she muttered. “After bringing the beast to the room I want you to make sure all three of them are good and secure before you collect the necromancer. Kill the woman if you need to make a show of force, but only the woman. It won’t do for all of them to be dead before she gets here.”

Owen’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Very good.” She stepped back to the door, her voice returning to its normal volume. “I’m going to open the door and have you escorted to the others’ room. If you try to escape, if any of you try to escape or fight back or do anything untoward, you will be restrained again and the woman will be killed. Assuming your vampiric friend hasn’t already done so,” she added with that same undertone of smug relish, as if the notion amused her, and Owen had to fight down the urge to claw the door open and growl in her face.

Instead he nodded, head light with relief. “Yes, yes, I promise I won’t do anything, please just let me help them.”

“Step back from the door,” she commanded and Owen complied. About a minute passed before a key slid into the lock and the knob turned, opening the door to reveal a wisp of a woman, skin flimsy as sallow onion paper and covered in fine wrinkles that puckered her mouth and eyes. She barely reached Owen’s waist yet held herself with the domineering mien of one who was used to being catered to. Snow white hair was pulled into a tight pun at the crown of her head and she was dressed in a loose fitting day dress and fuzzy cardigan in complementing shades of pink and red.

“Come out slowly, arms up,” she continued and again Owen did as instructed, hand and residual elbow raised in submission as he stepped out into a musty hallway. 

He could now see that hovering just behind the elderly woman was a young man, perhaps a few years older than Owen himself, the source of the orange and gold smell. He was of a wiry build and a good deal shorter than Owen (although to be fair most people were), wearing a worn but respectable jean jacket and heavy boots, his long dark hair tied back to reveal eyes like molten gold in a chiseled, warm brown face. Heat radiated off the man in waves, and Owen’s gaze slid down to where he cradled a long syringe in one hand.

The woman tipped her head towards her companion. “He will escort you to the others and make sure you’re all settled. With force if necessary.”

Owen nodded, heart hammering against his ribcage. Raquel was running out of time and he had no intention of wasting what was left.

“Carry on then,” she demanded, waving a dismissive hand at the man. His lips pressed together into a severe line before he bowed slightly at the waist, golden eyes never wavering from the woman’s face.

“As you desire, Mistress,” he murmured before gesturing with his empty hand for Owen to walk in front of him towards one end of the hallway. 

Owen quickly did as directed, noting that the woman continued on in the opposite direction. The hallway was bare, without a trace of window or decoration to break up the uniform mahogany paneling. Their footsteps kicked up a cloud of dust from the threadbare carpeting, and the general design of the vaulted ceilings and intricate baseboards put Owen in mind of the lovely Queen Anne houses the cirque would see when touring through the New England area in America. DC wasn’t all that far away from New England. Perhaps the others weren’t that far away. But that was no doubt part of the plan if the necromancer they were after was who he suspected it was…

A wet tearing noise followed by a familiar shriek reached Owen’s ears and he almost bolted toward the sound before remembering the man (Demon? He certainly had the eyes of one, but the smell was off…) with the heavy syringe behind him, his presence an oppressive heat baking into Owen’s back. His body shuddered with impatience and discomfort from the coming Change, but Owen held on as the two of them continued their silent walk through a maze of corridors.

The wet sound was getting louder and more insistent when the man came to a stop, pointing to an unassuming door like the countless others they’d passed but which Owen could smell a strong current of scent wafting out from under. Deep human red and the light gray he associated with the undead, but with faint red threads spread throughout. Raquel and Val..

“One moment,” the man said, bringing up his free hand and tracing an intricate pattern in the air before the closed door. Sparks crackled under his fingernails, trailing behind his gestures to form glowing white sigils of blue tinged flame. The gold colored scent around the man intensified as the sigiled pulsed and smaller symbols flared to life in response at the doorknob and four corners of the door. It reminded Owen of the protective wards Val maintained at the entrance of his penthouse and Owen briefly wondered what would have actually happened if he had tried to break his way out of his room before.

Something moved on the other side of the door, and Val’s voice sounded in Owen’s head once more. I don’t suppose that’s room service?

The sound was much stronger than before now that Owen was closer, and given the man’s surprised expression it wasn’t limited to Owen’s mind.

“No,” the man said stiffly. “I’m bringing over your friend to help with the woman’s injuries.”

“It’s going to be okay Val,” Owen reassured him even as another spasm twisted his guts. “Just do what he says and we’ll be able to help each other through this.”

The man’s molten gold gaze cut to Owen before dropping abruptly to the ground, a muscle jumping in his jaw. His grip on the syringe tightened.

Owen! Val’s tone swerved between relief and panic, and Owen was overcome by the sensation of his friend’s mind pressing down on his own. Owen, I’m only speaking to you now. I’m hurt, no weapons, but still able to throw down as a meat shield if nothing else. Can we rush this guy and escape? Cough once for yes, twice for no, I’ll hear you from there.

“Both of you stand back from the door,” the man instructed at the same time, unaware of the one way mental conversation going on. “If any of you try to force your way out you will be subdued, and I have been instructed to kill the woman if necessary.”

Charming, Val quipped and the man flinched. Switching back to just Owen, Val asked, voice firm, Can we take him and get Raquel out? Yes or no?

If only he could swap places with Adrienne in this moment. His sister always had a plan, always knew just what to do. Instead everything was riding on Owen this time, his mind swimming with fear and panic as the Change agonizingly consumed his body bit by bit. There were only seconds to act but Owen couldn’t think beyond getting inside the room and tending to Raquel’s wounds. Val was always up for a fight, but could he hold his own against a possible demon? Owen certainly couldn’t, and if they lost then Raquel would go from wounded to dead and none of them could fix that.

Owen coughed twice, the man distracted as he kept talking. “Do you understand?”

Yeah, Val sighed in both their heads. Yeah, I understand. No funny business.

“Yes, I understand,” Owen echoed, both relieved and guilty at his choice.

“Okay.” The man gestured Owen towards the door. “Everyone inside the room keep back, your friend is coming in. I’ll be locking the door immediately after him.”

The man tapped a finger against the doorknob. There was another gold spark then an audible click as the lock slid back. After a moment of hesitation the man reached out and turned the silver knob, making eye contact with Owen as he pulled the door open.

“Time to join your friends.”

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E4; Chapter Four, The Sauna Test - [Pt. 3]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘌𝘭, 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘠/𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘹.

📝: ERICAAA!!! FRICKIN FINALLY!! Less important note, but when writing about Y/n, El and Max, I wrote "the three friends" and autocorrect literally changed "friends" to "fruits". Yelmax confirmed 💀

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"It is fascinating what twenty bucks will get you at the County Recorder's Office," Robin reports, unfurling what looked to be a familiar layout on the break room table. "Starcourt Mall. The complete blueprints."

"Not bad," Dustin smirks from her left.

"So this is us," she points to a familiar-looking room before gesturing across the map. "Scoops, and this is where we wanna get."

"Yeah, I don't really see a way in," Steve mumbles from his seat at the table.

"There's not. If,"

She rips away a layer of the blueprint, revealing a vastly complicated map of air ducts, pipelines, and detailing that made up Starcourt.

"you're talking exclusively about doors."

Dustin looks at her with excitement growing in his eyes. "Air ducts!"

"Exactly," she smirks, making her way to the whiteboard to retrieve the magic marker. "Turns out, this secret room needs air just like any old room and these air ducts lead all the way" she circles the secret room in question, drawing one, interrupted line right back to, "here."

Dustin and Steve finally tear their eyes away from the map and follow Robin's mischievous eye. All the way to the air duct tucked away in the far corner of the Scoops Ahoy break room.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

To their surprise, a screwdriver had been harder to find than a ladder but soon enough Steve had managed to reach the air vent and unscrew it from the wall. But as he stood here now, peering down into the vent he quickly realized they were now facing yet another obstacle.

"Flath'ligh'?" Steve asked, finally removing the screwdriver from his mouth and shaping it for the small torchlight Dustin had waiting. "Thank you,"

The flashlight turns on with a tiny click and a soft yellow light bounces down the narrow metal tunnel, enunciation the frown on Steve's face.

"Yeah, I don't know man, I don't know if you can fit in here, it's like... super tight."

"I'll fit," Dustin smirks. "Trust me. No collarbones, remember?"

"Uh, excuse me?" Robin asks.

Steve jumps down from the ladder, turning to Robin as Dustin begins the climb and gives her a nod.

"Oh, he's uh, he's got so disease," he frowns thoughtfully, racking his brain as he tries to recall the word. "It's chrydo... um... something, yeah I don't know. He's missing bones and stuff, he can bend like Gumbo."

"You mean... Gumby?"

"I'm pretty sure it's Gumbo," he snorts.

"Just shut up and push me!" Comes Dustin's muffled voice from the vents.

By now he had wormed himself halfway in, his bottom half sticking out of the wall and still propped up on the latter while they had been talking.

"Okay,"  Steve huffed, motioning knowingly to the kid's feet and turned away from Robin.

She watched with a tired, lazily bemused expression as Steve grabbed a less than sturdy hold of the kid's feet and attempted to push.

"Not my feet, dumbass, push my ass!"

"Uh, what?"

"TOUCH MY BUTT! I DON'T CARE!" Came Dustin's impatient scream from the walls.

With a heavy grimace, Steve hesitantly began pushing against Dustin's rear end and his muffled anger grew louder.

"I'm pushing!" Steve argued.

"PUSH HARDER!" Dustin shrieks as he attempts to inch further into the metal vents. "You're playing with my legs!"

"I'm not playing, I have terrible footing!"

"Come on!"

Steve finally makes it to the top of the latter, Dustin's legs bunched together over his shoulders and locked under his arm as their voice continued to shout over one another.

"I'm gonna just shove you, ready?"

"Just shove me?"

"One, two..."

"Shit!"

"That work?"

"One more time,"

Robin rolls her eyes, finally turning away when she hears the sudden rapid chimes of the customer bell out front and all too familiar patron.

"Ahoy, sailors! All hands on deck!"

Through the partition window, Robin meets eyes with none other than Erica Sinclair who flashes her an exaggerated salute and rings the bell knowingly.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Laughter and joyful screams filled the chlorine-soaked air, the smell of the pool lingering with sunblock was strong enough it wafted all the way to the parking lot where the majority of the Party now stood at the Hawkins pool. It looked quite different than it had the day before when Y/n, Max, and El had last been, but the tension weighing down the atmosphere seemed just as heavy and ever-present.

The storm had of course long since lifted, and the sun was now beating down heavily on their backs as they took shelter behind a Rust Red AMC Hornet, all eyes across the lot on the occupant in the lifeguard chair.

Billy.

He was squished underneath the bright red beach umbrella, hidden underneath a baseball cap, thick shades, a long-sleeved sweater, and a white beach towel draped over his legs where they poked out into the sun. He was completely covered.

"I don't know," Max begins, peering through the group's binoculars. "He looks pretty normal to me,"

"Normal?" Lucas scoffs. "How many times have you seen him with a shirt on?"

Y/n smiles weakly from where she stands in between him and Will. Max lowers the binoculars, conceding a wince.

"I mean, it's a little weird,"

"More than a little," Mike nods. "He was in a tub with ice. The Mind Flayer likes it cold. Plus everything El saw—"

"But he's lounging at the pool," Max argues, doubtfully. "Which is like, the least Mind Flayer thing ever,"

"Not necessarily," Will says, pulling everyone's attention. "The Mind Flayer likes to hide. He only used me when he needed me. It's like... like you're dormant. And then, when he needs you,"

All eyes return to Billy.

"...you're activated."

Y/n gulps, shifting on her feet from where she had previously stood rooted to the spot. Ever since that dreaded Halloween night the previous year, nothing seemed to have been the same. The Mind Flayer had set his sights on Will, and in turn, her. Slowly but surely, he had infected all of their lives as he had the town of Hawkins; spreading his rot and poison, and his hate. She could still feel it sometimes; the pain of Will's nails raking into her face and leaving behind the faded scar that had already long since disappeared.

Her eyes dart back through the fence at the suspicious-looking lifeguard and her insides twisted further into a sickening knot. The thought of the Mind Flayer's possible return was enough to drain the color from her face and leave a chill in the humid, sticky summer air. Her mind was running rapid with fear but the sound of Max's voice was enough to return her to earth.

"Okay, so we just..." she shrugs, looking back over towards her brother. "wait until he gets activated."

"No," Mike says with the shake of his head. "What if he hurts someone?"

"Or kills someone?" Will counters, and the Wheeler boy nods.

"We can't take that chance. We need to find out if he's the host,"

"Well, how do we do that?" Lucas asks.

The Party falls silent. The weight of the air growing heavier and heavier as it dawns on them. And one by one, each pair of eyes trickle over to the only present Henderson sibling in the Party. Her head is hung, propped-up against the hood and when she senses the eyes on her she straightens, breathing a sigh. But Will was already shaking his head.

"What? No, no way," he says to Mike and the others, Y/n already turning to him. "No, Y/n, I don't think it's a good idea,"

"I don't like it either," Y/n fretted. "but it's our best chance. The Mind Flayer hates me, and I can push his limits. It's the fastest way."

"And if, by some random chance, Billy isn't the host?" Will countered gently. "He'd find out about you,"

Y/n didn't have a reply for that. Truthfully, she didn't know whether to be relieved or angered he had cornered her. She just stood there, frowning at the concrete sidewalk biting her lip thoughtfully. She tried to think of a way to use her abilities subtly, but all her experience with heat came from seismic blasts or concentrated bursts from her hands. If she attempted that on Billy, he would surely know it.

"There's gotta be another way," Mike cuts in. "I mean, a safe way that doesn't risk you getting hurt or discovered."

Y/n and Will - even El - shoot him a funny look and he shifts under the sudden attention, guiltily.

"What about the sauna?" Lucas says, lighting up.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, it's perfect!" He grins, stepping out from around the car and motioning for Will and Mike. "Come on,"

Seemingly catching onto Lucas's idea, Mike wastes no time in following. And Will hesitantly steps away, sending Y/n and his friends an apologetic shrug.

"Where are you going?" El called after them, exasperated.

"Sorry! Boys only!" Mike throws over his shoulder.

Max scowls after them. "Seriously?!"

"Just trust us!" Lucas cries.

"We'll be back," Will shrugs again. "... I guess."

The three friends sigh, throwing less than impressed looks at the retreating boys. Privately, Y/n wondered if Mike stood any chance of harm just from her glaring at him in this moment. She hadn't shared these feelings with anyone, but since reuniting with Will something had been troubled Ling him and he wouldn't say what. She could spot it right away, the shift in demeanor but she knew it was something different from the return of the Mind Flayer somehow. And she believed it had something to do with Mike.

He was acting differently around him. He had been for some time now, as she had with Max and even El but this was different. Something had happened, and because Will was, well, Will, he was clearly trying to put aside for the sake of everyone's safety. Y/n couldn't really blame him there, but she wished he would open up to her. Tell her what was wrong.

And she wished more than anything she could fix whatever Mike had clearly broken.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"All we gotta do is wait until the pool closes and everyone leaves," Lucas begins, guiding his friends through the first layer of the men's locker rooms. "And then get him from here..."

He steps forward, quickly ripping open the secondary door. The three boys scurry inside, and Lucas's friends quickly seem to catch on to his plan and a small smile grows on Will's face.

"And get him into here," Lucas eagerly rips open the sauna door, expecting to see nothing but steam but his luck had run out.

Five sweaty adult men in towels sat packed in the sauna like sardines, scowls on their faces for the three party members who interrupted their steam. "Hey! Shut the door!"

-"Come on, kid!"

-"Shut it!"

Lucas finally broke from his stupor and slammed the door shut, shuddering.

"I think I just threw up in my mouth,"

Will nodded with a grimace, but shook it off when his eyes landed on the wall beside the door.

"The controls!"

Mike's still bulging, haunted eyes finally broke away from their zoning out and jumped to the wall where Will was pointing. His face lit up.

"We can control from the outside, it's perfect!"

"Do you think it'll get hot enough?" Will asks, feeling more and more relieved by the second. "Like, "Y/n" hot?"

His friends immediately stopped, looking to him with a deadpan expression. Will scoffed at them. "You know what I mean" he snarked, not in the mood though he was trying to ignore the hint of a blush creeping up on his skin.

"Nevermind that," Lucas says. "Look right, here, 220 degrees. That's definitely enough."

"Okay, so we just need to figure out how to get him into here," Will nods towards the sauna door.

"Precisely."

"Then we lock him in," Mike says.

Lucas nods. "-heat him up,"

And Will manages another somewhat relieved smile. "-and no matter what happens, we'll know for sure."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Erica descends from the latter, the flashlight in her hands flicking off with a loud click as she strides up to the break room table where her recruits stood waiting. The group had taken a calculated risk I confiding in the young girl, but she was smart and demanded the information and why they needed to know if she could fit into the air duct in the back room. So here they stood, waiting with anxious breath for her verdict.

"Yeah, I don't know," she says, propping herself up on the edge of the table rather unimpressed.

"You don't know if you can fit?" Dustin asks.

"Oh, I can fit. I just don't know if I want to,"

"Are you claustrophobic?" Robin tries.

Amused, Erica gives the young woman a pitiful laugh. "I don't have phobias."

"Okay, well," Steve begins with a shrug. "What's the problem?"

"The problem is I still haven't heard what's in this for Erica,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Steve slides another banana boat ice cream float across the table, joining the already plentiful dairy banquet laid out for the Sinclair girl. She merely gave it a single, disinterested glance and slid it back.

"More fudge please,"

Nobody said anything. And Steve just stared back at the table with tired, glazed-over eyes before Erica sent him a dismissive wave.

"Go on,"

He gave a sigh, and left the booth with the Banana boat in hand, and retreated to the counter. Robin took that as her cue and pulled out the marked-up blueprints she had at her side.

"Alright, you see this?" She points from the circle marked Scoops Ahoy and trail connecting over the flipped map. "This is the route you're gonna take. Then we just wait until the last delivery goes out tonight then you knock out the grate. Jump down. Open the door."

"Then you find out what's in those boxes?" She asks.

"Exactly,"

"And you say this guard is armed?"

"Yes," Dustin quickly nods. "But he won't be there,"

"And booby traps?"

"Booby traps?" Robin echoed.

"Lazers, spikes in the wall,"

Robin couldn't help but give a small laugh, but Erica was all too serious. She turned to the two with a serious look.

"You know what this half-baked plan of yours sounds like to me? Child endangerment."

"We'll be in radio contact with you the whole time-"

"Uh! Uh! Uh!" Erica stops her. "Child. Endangerment."

Robin sighs, ignoring the knot wanting to twist in her stomach. She knew she was right, and Robin supposed she just didn't want to admit to herself what they were asking not only of themselves but the young girl.

"Erica?" Dustin began. "Hi, uh... We think these Russians want to do harm to our country. Great harm. Don't you love your country?"

"You can't spell America without Erica," she shrugs, taking a long and loud sip from her complimentary Scoops Shake.

Dustin just blinks at her response and concedes with a nod. "Uh... yeah. Oddly, that's uh... weirdly true, so... so! Don't do this for us! Do it for your country. Do it for your fellow man. Do this for America, Erica."

Erica, who had been slurping her drink through her straw throughout his entire speech, finally finished it off and shivered, sending him a smirk. "Ooh! I just got the chills."

Dustin smiled proudly.

"Oh, yeah," she quickly corrects, her smile falling. "From this float. Not your speech."

His smile falls right off his face.

"You know what I love most about this country?" Erica began. "Capitalism. Do you know what capitalism is?"

Both Robin and Dustin mumble a 'yeah'.

"It means this is a free market system, which means people get paid for their services depending on how valuable their contributions are. And this seems to me that my ability to fit into that little vent is very, very valuable to you all. So-"

Robin and Dustin share a worried look.

"-you want my help? This U.S.S. Butterscotch better be the first of many. And I'm talking free ice cream for life,"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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[btswishes]

Love me for who I am now

Bucky x Reader ( Chapter 6)

Previous / Next (7)

Summary: You apply for the Stark internship and end up getting it, so now you have 5 months to make a good impression to continue working with the Avengers.

A/N:  Is it juicy yet?👀 I have added a song to listen to at a particular part - gives the story a better feeling. Sorry for any mistakes made, hope you enjoy it even a tiny bit.

Tag list: @vicmc624  @yasminwashere​​

Word count:  3,719

Warmings: fights, harsh language, not part of the original MCU

Y/N- Your name                            

Y/L/N- Your Last Name                 

Vocabulary 40s:

cookie - a girl who is cute

decked out - dressed up in an attractive way

eager beaver - an enthusiastic helper; a person who is excited about something

dame - a woman

doll dizzy - a boy who is crazy about girls

                                          ----------------------------

  The drive to your destination was filled with fear, worry - the very anxiety seeping through your skin into your muscles, blood leading it to each apex of your body, feeding your mind numerous endings. You were no Dr. Strange, but at this very moment the only sensation was the contrast of burning unavoidable expectation and cool alluring cold coming from Bucky’s vibranium arm.

  Pulled abruptly out of yourself, Steve stepped on the breaks and pushed the car door open. Your head flung to him pulling the bags out of the backseat and unzipping them. Bucky followed his old friend, letting your figure finally stand on its own, free of the safety of his embrace. Taking a couple of breaths in, you felt your chest expand and collapse again under the atmospheric pressure.

“ Y/N.”Steve called out to you, waving his hand to pull your attention towards himself. Autopilot moved you around the metal of the vehicle right next to both men. Bucky was tightening his holsters to make sure it was all snug and tight, biting into his chest muscles. Steve leaned his shield against the car, throwing you a bag. The suit inside caught your eye, bottles of vibranium dust resting atop. With trembling fingers, you pulled he material out letting the soft yet sturdy sensation run up your nerves.

  A metal clank contracted your neck muscles – Bucky’s hand flung the trunk door open.

“You can get dressed here.” His big figure turned around, casting a shade over you “I won’t look, promise.” In a weird way, his first reaction was to cover you as much as possible, doing a mind check over his arsenal.

“Are you going to be the wall this time?” as clouded with fear as you were, a small tease escaped your dressing figure – fabric sliding over your thighs and up your chest. Bucky threw his head forward coaxed by a laugh.

“Sure, you can say so. Since the last one couldn’t hide that cute mole you have right on your side.”

“YOU DID PEEP!”Your throat let out a screech resembling that of a bird of prey, caused by the realization. His body swiftly rotated towards you, flesh hand cupping your mouth shut.

“Shhh. We don’t want to get caught doll.” Bucky’s gaze checked the perimeter before sliding towards you and down to your chest, where the metal zipper laid comfortably between your breasts.

“Maybe don’t boil the water if you don’t want the kettle to whistle.” Steve tapped his shield, sending his friend a stern look. He knew exactly what was happening and tried to make it easy on your poor maiden soul as much as he could. 

“You telling me ya wouldn’t tease this cookie?” James threw the words with a whip of his head over to Steve’s back. “I gotta thank Stark for decking her out like this.”

“Calm down eager beaver.” Bucky smirked at Steve’s words, as his ocean eyes pulled you in to his magical land, losing connection with the world around just to sink deeper “You were always popular with the dames Buck, never thought I would see the day when you would become doll dizzy.”

“Only for this one.” His fingers crawled up your front alluringly, taking his time remembering each curve and dip he could find, before squeezing the zipper and covering your exposed skin from the world and unwanted eyes.

“Hey!” finally being able to escape his lulling gaze, you slapped his hand away, throwing the bag in the trunk and aggressively closing it shut, shaking the car up in the action.

“Feisty lil’ one.”

“Oh shut up.”

  The conversation came like thunder on a sunny day, but you couldn’t deny it sucked out some of your stress right out of the skin on skin contact with the tank of a man, now walking behind you. Movie worthy, that was the new feeling bubbling in your guts as you walked tall next to Cap with his gear. The iced dust under your shoes crackled marking each step away from the getaway car. The glass bottles dangling around your waist acted like a safe space for you, knowing that you weren’t empty handed.

“Will someone brief me a bit?” the corner of your eye caught Steve smile at your question, his chest swelling up with a bit of fatherly pride

“Already sounding like an Avenger aren’t we Miss Y/N” pulling out the intercoms they bounced off his meaty palm into your hands and between Bucky’s fingers. You fumbled with it for a moment before finding a comfortable seat for them in your left ear.

“Test test?” Steve’s finger pressed on the blue plastic, hitting you with his voice almost directly in your brain “HYDRA became very active the past few weeks. They have been snooping into old human experiments from the 40s.”

“The 40s?” you had to fight your rush of shock from directing it to the sole survivor of that plan walking behind you, casting a protective shadow over your path

“Weird, we know. Our job is to get info, bust down anything that seems dangerous and leave with as little causalities as possible.”

“To us. You can fuck up anyone else in there.” Bucky added combative energy faintly tracked in his notes

“What is my job?”

“The three of us have to get to the center of that building.” The shield rose in the direction of an old almost abandoned for millennia looking construction. Snow piled on top almost camouflaging it from the rest of the universe. The back door had no one guarding it making the eerie feeling sprout roots inside your heart. Steve placed his ear on the door, letting his super soldier hearing take in as many sounds as possible, letting him deduce that the coast was clear for now. Upon pushing the handle down the men realized that the material was almost impenetrable – not even Bucky could take it down.

“What now? We can’t waltz in from the front like ‘hi we are the avengers’.” He mocked the whole plan, throwing his arms in the air, letting them fall back down with the same energy “ We were lucky enough this side didn’t have anyone guarding it. I don’t think we will have a second go at this with the same success.” he seemed weirdly on edge for a professional with years of experience 

“May I?” head ducked down, your eyes moved from one super soldier to the other. They made way, anything would be better than actually going in from another place. Elbows bend back, the nails on your thumbs swiftly unplugged the bottles dangling at your sides. The gentle movements mirroring a ballerina pulled the dust out, mobilizing the small particles for action. They easily penetrated the hinges before busting them open with the spread of your fingers. The light thud the door let out falling onto Steve’s chest with a slight bounce ,signaled the granted entrance.

“Gentlemen first.” A mischievous smile tugged onto your skin, waving your hand for them to walk past you. Pride swirled around, having done something helpful to the mission before it even started - technically. 

  Turning to the side the men stepped inside the dimly lit corridor. Flickering lights would reflect over Cap’s shield and Bucky’s arm, both of them ready for a fight at each corner they turned. Being in front of you like a barricade against danger, you decided for now to call back the vibranium forming the good old gauntlets – formidable punch, guaranteed to make anyone’s dentist’s pockets happy. The forked path froze Steve, now having him think of any good decisions for a continuation.

“ I go left you take Y/N and go right.” Steve sighed out, tense and wary of each quiet moment passed

“You sure about this?” Bucky unsheathed a knife and swung it over at his friend, making his eyes lay on the shiny sharp edge

“Keep it pal.” One big hand pushed away another “I got my trusty partner over here.” palm tapping the curve of the shield 

“Um guys, how about we all go left?”

“Nah doll, let’s go with Stevie’s plan.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I think that the path with shiny blue light and talking men sounds like our destination. 3 against all of them is better than 1 man and his circular sonoluminescent slab of metal.”

“My what?” Steve’s lids squinted, the gears in his head turning slowly to understand your science language.

“Ummm~...Thor hit, shield vibrate and make lighttt~?” the awkward smile plastered all over your face was more than enough to discourage the man from any further education in this era

“Wait wait.” Bucky shook his arm in front of you two, cutting his best friend some slack “How did you hear them? This- this isn’t a frequency you should even be able to catch.”

“But…it is pretty loud and clear. They are even talking about some portal.”

“ Y/N this isn’t something you just hear, come to think of it you excel in your traini-“

“Buck drop it. We can talk when we are back in car, what matters is that we are onto something here and I don’t like how it is looking.”

“I mean I don’t know if this will help ,but I hear 5 more people coming our way from the other direction.” there was no need to point it out seeing as how your team mates were already standing in their signature fight poses. Bucky’s left hand grabbed at you, fingers pushing deep enough to bruise, as he anchored you behind his large frame.

“HEY!” approaching enemies located you pretty easy. All of them armed to the teeth with too many heavy weaponry for some odd reason. Steve covered you two from the first gun shots letting the bullets flatten into caps against his shield. The whole situation caught you off guard almost forgetting all the battle training with Natasha. Who were you kidding, she would go easy on you, these men were out to kill and you were a pretty good target for them.

It was an art form, the way these heavy men were moving between bodies and taking them down like flies. Mistake number 2 - you were too focused on them.

“Y/N!” Bucky’s hair slapped his opposite cheek as his eyes widened filling with fear enough to pollute that deep blue. His knife flew inches from your skin taking with it some of your hair clean off. A yelp left your throat the moment the sharp edge dug into the lung of a random unfortunate guy trying his luck with you. Steve quickly counted the bodies noticing one empty blood patch on the floor. Bucky indulged into relief seconds too soon, letting your safe and healthy figure reflect onto his cornea.

“Bucky!” oh how ironic it was, yelling each other’s names. Danger loved to watch people dance but in a pair. Your fingers reached out to him even though you knew how far you were from him, the man dashing with anger and a last dying wish to take one of you with him down to hell. The corridor began almost elongating in front of you playing a sadistic illusion. Shouting out ‘James’ was the drop needed to overflow your unconscious lake, hands engulfing the atmosphere in an unknown move before making contact with him. Your arms pulled him in like a protective mother as the warmth of a liquid spilled all over your face.

“Y/N, Buck!” Steve dashed over, making sure the last of the scumbags was actually on his way to be judged upon hell’s gates. The vibranium formed into the elegant shape of a knife dripped with the piping life you just took.

“Y/N!” Bucky shook you a couple of times. He scanned your face, palms wiping away as much of the blood as he could, making sure to keep it away from your mind. 

“I-....I just killed someone.” the muddy blob of blood and vibranium in your hand, glistening no more - sinfully tainted.

“It’s ok, it’s ok.” Bucky kept brushing your hair back, casting a breathy spell of words  “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” color leaving your cheeks, mind flooded with thoughts. Your whole body worked in a minimal rhythm as if it was denying it. “Doll...doll?” scared, he was scared of the lack of speech

“No, no.” shacking out of his grip, Steve had to push his hand at your lower back, stopping you from rolling onto the floor and into more now cold and drying blood. They both sat, watching you losing your innocents. It was something disgusting, torturous to anyone, still even to them years later. “You don’t get it.” your calm heart beat filled their ears “I don’t feel...anything.” trying to find hope in their faces led you only to more tangled webs of confusion  “I just sliced a man’s head clean off his body. At- at first was...- I thought I was just in shock, but now...nothing. No fear, no regret, no panic is coming to me.” silence oh you beautiful song, come and cover these children and hide away their misery from one another. Stay with them until their distress subsides, until they remember who they are. And so she did, letting only the air escaping between your head and Bucky’s chest make itself known. 

  Minute after minute yet you didn’t feel any different. Tapping the man’s bicep he released you, letting you take a breath in that wasn’t soaked with his intoxicating scent.

“Sorry. ”he muffled out his voice

“Let’s talk this out later.” another to the list of issues “Let’s wrap this up, I don’t think my 106 year old self can take any more surprises.” 

  Giving each other a quick nod, both Bucky and Steve were back in stealth positions almost floating over the dirty and crumbly ground. No sound not even a vibration from the air in front of their nostrils. With a quick look at them you adapted fast becoming part of the shadows dancing under the broken lights. The corridor began shrinking, leading you to a hall divided only by 2 doors. Old, chewed up wood being your only blanket away from the eyes of potential predators.

“This better work!” a deep male tone huffed out from the side, mobilizing you 100% back to reality and the mission at hand. 

“It has to work!” a second man joined in, his voice filled with determination “We lost the soldiers because of shitty planning.” Bucky’s skin crawled, his nerves sending impulses from deep in his memory.

“Calm down, if my calculations are correct we can get them back fresh from the factory.” The laugh was laced with potent evil, as they spoke of human beings as frozen meat from a butcher shop 

“Shut up and turn it on!” an almost painfully familiar echo interjected the conversation “ Find the exact moment and grab them.”

  Keycap tapping and machine sounds began spreading around the hall, seeping through the cracks in the door where you 3 were positioned. Steve threw a look at Bucky and you, almost asking how many people you thought were in there. The nail on your middle left finger rose up and made 3 long followed by two short taps atop the hard surface – Morse code for 8. The contorting looks they threw made you point at the small crack next to you. The vibranium dust formed a flat reflective surface letting you spy inside, without having to expose any of your body parts.

“Oh God, it’s working!” the strong flash bounced off the mirror scorching your pupils almost right off. Bucky winced followed by a hiss from you.

“How far are we back?”

“I don’t know, I can’t configurator this yet. Wait.”

“What? What?”

“Someone is coming! I can’t shut this off!”

“Don’t! Kill whoever it is! We need to succeed this or our heads will be rolling!” the man yelled out, from the condition of his voice you could tell he was flaring his arms from side to side.

“Who are you!” the clicking of a gun paired with a sweet female voice took over the room, sending Steve a signal to jump in. Everything was going downhill for the HYDRA agents, it was now or never. With the number 8 in mind Bucky bend his leg into his knee, exerting sheer inhuman strength, sending the two doors flying inside announcing the arrival of the Avengers. Your fingers weaved the dust off your soft skin and into 10 sharp spears above your head, gently forming a halo behind your back.

“Fuck!” the men cussed out trying to stay away from the door, enjoying its first flight after years of pension “Great, Captain America !” dressed like a scientist, the man closed his laptop, putting it away safely under his armpit. The light coming from the wall began to vanish slowly but surely

“YOU IDIOT!” yelled out his partner

Out of pure muscle memory you tried to pull the tech out of the sloppy grasp of the enemy, but he saw the cloud coming.

“Fuck this shit!” the unsheathing of a firearm pulled your gaze at the man pointing right at Bucky. His finger slowly pulled back the trigger, spewing out the metal bullet spiraling in the air with speed above that of a human. Bucky’s super soldier abilities pulled his metal arm up, but no clank of materials echoed, the burning capsule sizzling, nestled inside of your grasped fist hovering in front of your partner’s head.

 “Go go!” Steve tried to stop them, but the shield got repelled by some type of force field. Bucky was in shock, the warm blood rolling off your skin onto the frozen floor, steam waves leaving as it cooled off.

“They got away!” Steve pushed his finger gently over the intercom sending a message to the rest at the compound “We failed.” His fist hit the wall standing unfortunate next to his strong figure

“Not- “ you hissed, releasing the bullet letting it chime upon contact with the ground “-not necessarily.” Between the metaphorical fingers of the dust cloud you held the very USB that was previously inside the laptop dangling without protection “I think they should be smarter next time, with data I mean.” Your body straightened, Bucky hovering next to you, hands not that far from you just in case. Cap sighed out, his consciousness feeling less aggravated by the failed mission upon you all.

“Not bad for a fist time kid.” He rubbed the top of your head, tugging on a growl from Bucky, low but noticeable upon your contact with his friend.

    Song to listen to from here down.

“Steve?” it was the female. Her presence forgotten in the hall, as you 3 relished in the small win. Her heels echoed in rhythm with the Captain’s slowly moving figure. It looked like slow motion as the woman came closer. Her elegant fingers folding the metal of the historical looking gun. Your hands pulled the vibranium in defense, till Bucky’s arm stopped you, his eyes not peeling off of the woman with each of her steps. Her chocolate curls bounced off her shoulders, some draping gently over the collar of the olive colored uniform. Her knees tugged onto the skirt making bigger and much more confidant strides towards the blond man. It felt like a century of them adjusting to each other’s eyelevel.

“Steve…”her voice trembled as her eyes took in the man standing in front of her. His self reflecting into her eyes, soaking deep past them. Half way up his body, Steve grasped her gently with a need. The woman’s hand dropped the gun to the ground thankfully without a shot as her other one slid up his right cheek. Steve’s fingers still holding onto her, intertwined into her grasp, letting his head lean into her gentle touch. His lip quivered slightly. America’s hero, the strong super soldier that gave his life for his country without a second thought, now coming undone in this woman’s presence.

“ Steve…” her voice dripped with a breathy chuckle without a smile. You didn’t need to know them to feel the need and longing spilling out of them. It was just a split second before he let go and warped his arms around her waist pulling her off the ground and flush against his chest, wishing to be as close as possible to her.

“Peggy.” Steve breath out, swallowing in the tears beginning to glaze his eyes, soothing the burning around his nose.

“Peggy?” stagnant notes pushed out from your throat, gaze thrown over Bucky as he nodded back at you. They stayed in each other’s embrace for a few minutes feeling like years to them. You could tell Steve didn’t want to let her down. But past the feelings that bubbled out from the past, he found confusion.

“Peggy why are you here? How are you here?” his hands kept placing strands of hair behind her ear, eyes roaming over her face making sure she was real time and time again.

“I-I don’t know. “ her head looked in the direction of the previously existing light “ I was on a mission when I saw a weird light and voices. I followed and now I am here…with you.” One thing was for sure, she couldn’t go back anymore.

“I am sorry to cut this short, but we have to leave now.” You swung your arm, pulling everyone’s attention your way “We don’t know how many HYDRA agents are here and I don’t plan to take my chances with them on my first mission.”

“You, what are you doing here?” Peggy had a gentle smile, letting the red lipstick expose her teeth

“Long story Peggy, Bucky went through some stuff but he is with us now an-“

“Y/N.” Agent Carter let your name roll off her lips with such familiarity it almost got you believing into something as old as time.

“What?” Bucky observed the situation feeling like Alice in Wonderland

“I haven’t seen you for a few years now.”  She continued

“You-you know me?” the words stuttered on their way out

“Of course. Y/N Y/L/N.”

 Let’s say that Cap’s 106 year old self survived another unexpected surprise. 

[miss-writers-block]

Everyone Loves Wei Wuxian

The moments when everyone fell for Wei Wuxian.

Jin Guangyao

He stood outside the apothecary, a sick feeling rising up from within him as he stood not ten feet away from the medicine that his mother desperately needed to survive, a few coins short from actually obtaining it. The unfairness of the world overwhelming him all at one, bitterness for his weakness filling up his hungry stomach. He was just contemplating an alternative path when a sweet voice piped up from beside him. Three little coins filled his vision (enough to cover the rest of the medicine and maybe a few pork buns as well) before being deposited in his hand by a slim little hand. He looked over to see a brilliant set of sparkling silver eyes, belonging to a adolescent maybe a few years younger than himself. He was dressed in sturdy lavender junior cultivator robes and his countenance shone as brightly as his money. The youth introduced himself and stuck to him like glue for the rest of the day. Helping him carry the medicine and joining him for a meal. He seemed comfortable taking back streets and following him into his mother’s room at the brothel. Meng Yao was enchanted with his new friend and when the day ended and they had to part, he felt a certain warmth fill his chest, replacing the bitterness that had filled it earlier. I love Wei Ying. 

Jiang Cheng

There’s a hidden place to the north of Lotus Pier, past a luscious bamboo forest and tucked away in the bend of the great river running past Yunmeng. A small and rickety wooden dock sits there, shadowing a patch of wild lotuses from the hot summer sun. It’s their secret place, him and Wei Wuxian’s, known only by their sister (because she has eyes in the back of her head and is much too sneaky for her own good) and them. They go there to hide from training and chores sometimes, swimming and play fighting and eating lotus seeds for hours at a time. It’s there that Jiang Cheng realizes something, lying beside his best friend and brother, their legs tangled together, the hot sun warming their bodies and the smell of lotus filling the air. Wei Ying is asleep, tucked into Jiang Cheng’s side and the breath tickling his throat makes his heart flutter. “Well fuck,” he breathed, rubbing his eyes in exasperation, “I’m in love with Wei Wuxian.”

Nie Huaisang

It was his third time studying in The Cloud Recesses and his brother had sent him off with a warning, either pass this time or I’ll break your legs. Well, third time’s the charm. A couple other young lords were studying this year as well, and Huaisang was eager to meet them. He already knew Jin Zixuan (they had played together when they were young and were still good friends) but he had never met Jiang Cheng or Wei Wuxian before. He was contemplating these things when he heard a beautiful laugh echo around the area. He looked up to see an angel dressed all in black. A ray of sun illuminated his flashing silver eyes, wild and curly coal black hair, sharp smile, and lean figure. He stood out amongst the Jiang disciples and he deduced that this angel was their head disciple, Wei Wuxian. And, I think I’m in love with Wei Wuxian.

Lan Wangji

He looked up from his writing with a suspicious gaze. Wei Wuxian had been silent for far too long. Usually by this hour he was lamenting the rule against snacking in the Cloud Recesses, craving spiced lotus seeds, his favorite from Yunmeng. But today Wei Wuxian was not fooling around as usual, instead he was actually copying the rules for once. Of course, he was slouched over with his elbow on the table, propping his chin up in his hand. His face was a bit squished from the position but his eyes were a soft silver and hooded with concentration. He was beautiful. He must have felt Wangji’s eyes on him because he glanced up. Wei Ying perked up immediately and flashed him a brilliant smile. “Lan Zhan,” he called out, his voice soft but happy and Wangji felt warmth bloom in his chest. And then he realized something, I’m in love with Wei Wuxian. 

Jin Zixuan

The right hook surprised him, knocking him off his feet and landing him on his back. A body settled atop his hips, pinning him to the spot and allowing his attacker easier access to his face. And up this close he could see the ferocious expression on Wei Wuxian’s beautiful countenance. He looked like an avenging god, his ferocity and anger making his cheeks flush and his eyes sparkle. He snarled and clutched at his robes, rising up a fist to strike him once again. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, this moment suspended and stretched out for his perusal. He had known that Wei Wuxian was a beautiful man, but until this moment he hadn’t really known. And with knowing came another uncomfortable realization (along with a sucker punch), I’m in love with Wei Wuxian. 

Luo Qingyang

It’s cold and dark and damp inside the cave and she despaired at their ever surviving these conditions. She thought sorrowfully of her family. She’ll never see her mother or father again, never see her little siblings grow up, or become someone great and powerful, someone like the Violet Spider. Thinking of the Madame of Lotus Pier turned her attention to the two young lords dressed in violet, facing off against the Wen cultivators without swords or talismans. She was distracted when two cultivators grabbed her and that awful Wang Lingjiao approached with a brand in hand. A future filled with mocking and jeering and disfigurement flew through her mind as the white hot metal came near. Suddenly, a wall of black and violet filled her vision and a cry of pain rang out. Wei Wuxian fell at her feet, the junction of his robes burned away to reveal a blistering Wen brand. Two emotions filled her then, as she watched him rise again and defend her still, shock and...love. Oh gods, she despaired, I think I love Wei Wuxian!

Nie Mingjue

He knew Wei Wuxian was special the day of his triumph at the archery competition in Nightless City. And with every rumor and recounting of his deeds in battle, he felt his admiration and respect grow and grow. Then the Phoenix Mountain Hunt come around and the dark and dangerous beauty that was the head disciple of Yunmeng struck him hard. He couldn’t help but follow behind the blindfolded man watching as he commanded the supernatural beasts of the wild with just his eerie song. But he also felt a shock of arousal and jealousy when Lan Wangji pushed the exotic beauty up against a tree and stole a passionate kiss from his berry colored lips. He could not look away as a thought entered his mind and a blush colored his face. I love Wei Wuxian.

Wen Ning

He stood to one side of the Demon Slaughtering Cave, continually grinding some medicinal herbs for the use of his jiejie and not-so-subtly watching the dark genius further in. Although Wei Wuxian was not expanding his genius at this moment. He was lying upon a pile of rags within a cozy alcove near the fire. He was curled around the small figure of Wen Ning’s little cousin, A-Yuan. A sweet but haunting melody fell from Wei Wuxian’s lips, lulling the little boy into a deep sleep. Long, slim fingers carded through wispy black bangs and the demonic cultivator paused in his lullaby to place a soft kiss against his adopted little ones forehead. The scene was so sweet and emotional it seemed to jump start Wen Ning’s long-dead heart. And he had a thought he had not had since he was still alive. I’m in love with Wei Wuxian. 

Lan Xichen

He awoke that day thinking it would be like any other, filled with just himself and his own guilt eating away at him. That is, until a hesitant knock filled the still air. He arose with some difficulty (he cannot remember the last time he had eaten) and slid open the door, expecting his uncle or brother or even his little nephew, but was surprised when a petite figure in black stood before him. “Zewu-Jun!” his brother-in-law called out, “I thought that you would enjoy some company today! I brought some sweet buns and my dizi. Maybe we could...play together?” And that was the beginning of the end for him. Wei Ying became a regular visitor after that, lifting his spirits with every appearance, making his days bright once again. As he watched Wei Ying play a Gusu song on his pitch black dizi, looking like a vision in white and dark blue, he couldn’t help but come to a sobering realization. That he was tragically in love with his precious brother’s husband, in love with Wei Wuxian.

[skye-huntress]

RWBY V8 Episode 12 “Creation” Reactions

I don’t even know why I’m surprised. If there is one thing that Ironwood is consistent at it’s his incompetency. All his plans are full of holes and blindspots so of course like all of his other plans his plot to threaten Penny into complying would fall apart as fast as he put it in motion due to factors he is too stupid to consider, you know like the fact that members of his own military have enough of the integrity he lacks.

I’m not surprised by the kill on sight order. When RNBWPM set off the alarms in the military compound, Ironwood authorised lethal force against them

Vine seemed to be reflecting on their choices and was perhaps starting to realise they have been on the wrong side of this conflict all along but too little too late

Emerald playing a Penny double is something we all called, but I didn’t expect Winter to be in on the whole plan. Smart of her to coordinate with her sister in order to neutralise Ironwood

“You did the right thing.” “I have. Feels weird.” But you’re smiling so I guess its the good kind of weird, or it’s the euphoria from pulling off such a great con on a massive douche

With both JNPR and Winter ambushing Jimmy, they certainly took no chances with him, which again, smart

Meanwhile, one of the things I’ve hoped for and predicted was Marrow using Stay on Harriet! I mean, it was all three remaining “Ace” Ops, so it’s not personally targeted at her but I’ll take it

Also, BTW, I think I covered this last reaction but Marrow... Great of you for having enough integrity to understand what Jimmy was doing was very wrong, but try to think through your response to things before you got yourself in trouble, or shot. Good thing Winter managed to keep her head and knew they’d need an actual plan and help

So their plan was to use the staff to solve their other problems with the evacuations and Penny. And with the gravity dust Atlas has they have a brief window but it is as I suspected. You can’t have the staff as such an important part of the show and not use it so Atlas was always going to fall, but it hasn’t yet. This of course is going to cause all sort of problems later but more on that later

Quite the hole Oscar left. I love seeing Ruby use the new application of her semblance, it opens up so many possibilities.

I didn’t quite catch Creation Jinn’s name so I’ll call him Blue until I look it up later. May I just say, I love Blue throwing shade at the idea of a floating city. When you think about it, the then Kingdom of Mantle would have probably been better off keeping their feet on the ground.

Before we continue, I’m just going to say something so people are clear why I stand on this, Penny is, always was, and always will be a real girl/woman. As a transgender woman myself, I know better than most that the parts we are made of do not necessarily define who we are. Whether she is made of flesh or metal, human or faunus, Penny is Penny

It feels a bit like cheating, doesn’t it, like they bent the laws of the universe a bit, but hey, desperate times. I can’t pretend to understand it and I don’t even think Jinn could explain it in a way I could but the results are what matter. Besides, bending rules to save the day is very much a Team RWBY thing

I admit it was unnerving watching Penny’s old body die, the way it reached out like even though it was soulless it still had something of her left like memories of what it had lost. Not to mention a clear visual of what almost happened

So throughout this show, Penny has given and received a lot of great hugs, but never thought much about how she feels them. In hindsight, not exactly something I would want to dwell on since it wouldn’t change unless the tech in her body change, or so I thought. She is just so precious how she is now not only showing her affection but enjoying the physical act of doing so. I want to see more cuddly Penny going forward, for the rest of the show. Because Penny is not going anywhere.

Also, when of the first things I noticed about Penny was that she had a blush!

So begins the Fall of Atlas. And as Jaune begins his broadcast, it goes down. That’s probably not a good sign and the fact they weren’t able to fully explain the situation will likely cause problems further down. But also why? The likely culprits would be Watts and Cinder, and the goal would be to sow confusion as well as make it difficult to communicate via scrolls

Ah, Jacques is still around, somehow. You know, it occurs to me that with the entire Kingdom being reduced to rubble, so goes most of the SDC’s assets. While it’s not entirely clear where he’ll end up, yet, he will have still lost everything he had built up and I find that very satisfying. As for Weiss, her home is her family, that’s all she needs and more than Jacques ever had

So now the critical part, getting everyone out of Solitas before the inevitable. Already, the confusion and hesitancy going around is going to slow things down, and every second is going to count. Then there’s the pocket realm Blue created, where if you fall off, well, I’m guessing there is nothing that will ever break your fall and once the Staff is used again, that whole realm and probably everything still in it may cease to exist

Then there’s the final destination. Before the events of the show, Vacuo would have been considered the least ideal place for a whole Kingdom of refugees to go, and the last Kingdom for Atlesians to go to for help given how their ancestors played no small role in its exploitation and decline. But Vacuo is the only Kingdom Salem has yet to attack and the only one not dealing with any direct fallout. Still, resources are scarce enough in what is basically a wasteland and accomodating such a sudden influx of refugees is going to be impossible. Not even touching on the political shitshow it’s going to be

Now, the outstanding issues. It’s like some kind of cruel joke, Ironwood initially stopped the Mantle evacuations because he thought that was how Cinder got in. This time she actually has planted herself among the refugees. Neo and Watts, too, no doubt. The advantage is theirs and their targets are Ruby, an exposed staff, and Penny who is both unarmed aside from her magic and not quite as durable as she used to be. Three villains, three targets

Then, there’s Salem. Not only are they racing against the Fall, they’re also racing against her resurrection which could happen any moment. And the only way to stop her and her Grimm from following is to close the “doors” which might require creating something else. But who would make that call, and when. I suppose if they manage to keep hold of the staff, the most logical thing to create would be a “temporary” shelter for the refugees. Considering anything Blue creates is temporary, it can be as sturdy as they want

We still somehow have two episodes to go and so much that can and will go wrong. I don’t like it!

Final note, I want to hug Penny, too!

[grim-faux]

2 _ 11 _ Abandoned Realms

 First

 All the rooms connected around to the corridor, but the furniture room was neighbored to the room with the recliner and not in full view of the doorway. From within the gloom, the delicate sweep of paper twittered forth.

 Cautiously, Mono shuffled along the doorframe to the opening and peeked inside, letting his eyes focus through the shroud. The Thin Man waited in the chair, studying the pamphlet. Mono couldn’t grasp the face or the eyes around the leaflet, could scarcely see the hat. It was only the suggestion of a hazy outline and the faint curl of fumes. He waited until a page fluttered, then crossed through the doorframe for the other side of the corridor.

 He already scouted through the kitchen a dozen times, and a hundred times over. Each time was a sour disappointment. He returned to the big room and the sideways laying sofa, only so he could retrieve his hat. From there, he went down a short sequence of steps to where the main door waited.

 Grooves in the wall of the doorframe afforded easy reach to the handle. As always, the door is not locked. He swung his legs as the panel swept outward, and braced himself before dropping. Now outside, he made sure to shove the door all the way shut until the latch clicked. It would be horrible if something stumbled inside and got the Thin Man.

 Debris littered the corridor and lay strewn about, the layers of the walls collapsed from their framing forged trespass into other rooms and chambers. However, though there lay openings within, this did not afford a safe passage. The floors creaked under Mono whenever he took a wrong step, and every few steps he stalled and listened to the dull song of the walls. When the lamps dangling from the ceiling pulsed, he knew without a doubt it was from the writhing storm. It was not the worst storm he’d experienced in a while, though the building insisted it was the storm of all storms.

 The stairwell lay in ruin, but that didn’t always mean creatures or other… things couldn’t find other ways. If Mono wanted, he could climb down the body of a Viewer strewn down from the rail. He didn’t want to go down there, not yet. He followed the corridor, until reaching a large break in the wall. The path extended only a few paces before the floor collapsed out, into the lower room. A tattered mattress hung from the warped bedframe, which dangled off the ledge of an upper floor.

 Mono braced himself and leapt. He latched onto the threads and exposed of bones of the bed; tugging and leaning hard to the side, he managed to force it around and face a cracked-out portion of the wall. Another leap, and he snagged the parallel boards there. After several feet, the pale radiance peered through the gloom above a break in the wall. As he crept through the narrow passage, blue spectrums pilfered through the gaps and the all too chipper tunes of the televisions wound through his ears. Once or twice he dallied to peep among the boards and check on the Viewers, count how many to a televisions. It was important to know how many would be where at any given time. None of the numbers appeared out of place, all accounted for and content to lose themselves in a lie cloaked in tranquility.

 It wasn’t much further to the opening, and the slant that led into the room. A bit more crawling, risking a venture in the open sprawl of a room, then through a twisted vent. The slates had fallen out some time ago, allowing exit at his leisure.

 Upon first arriving in the room, he checked the cracked door – the only other way out of this place. It wouldn’t close all the way, but the hallways outside didn’t really go anywhere aside from a few other rooms, and those contained nothing interesting. No keys, switches, creatures. No threatening sounds, not a strange smell, nor sneaky creeping.

 Something did exist in one of the bedrooms. Not enough light peered in through the boarded window, but his eyes retained visual in the murk. He didn’t go too far into the room, but strayed in the entrance exploring the walls and furniture with his gaze. A chair stood beside the bed, in the furthest corner of the room. The chair cradled a familiar sort of silhouette, motionless and placid in the stale chamber. On the bed, sheets sank down over a pronounced sequence of lumps. He didn’t understand the shapes in the room. He knew what they were, but he didn’t understand the together. He had questions, he always had questions. Rather stand and ponder, he shut the door and left it alone.

 The room he first entered held a cracked chest full of stuff. Mostly toys, some oversized clothing. Every inch of the walls catered to shapes and colors, all faded and the speek impossible to make out. Toys lay on the floor, scattered from when Mono first raided the room. It didn’t seem like anyone had been here in a very long time. Not until him. Not until they….

 He climbed into the chest and scavenged through the orphaned gifts. There were no more ducks, but there were other creatures – cats, dogs, other birds. An assortment of boxes sat layered in among the clothing and artificial creatures.

 One of the most interesting artifacts he drew from the chest was a train trail. At first he didn’t know what the pieces were and dismissed the box, to continue digging through the clothing. Hoping for a new paper bag, maybe? None of the shirts or pants fit his size.

 Until he realized more boxes of pieces sat in the chest, and began putting them together. After perusing more toys, he found the toy train with the key in the back. Keys unlocked doors? The key was actually a crank, and when he turned it until the crank could go no further, it made the train wheels twirl. When set on the tracks the train rolled dutifully to the end, unless the two ends of the rails had been connected. Sometimes he piled toys into small hills for the train track to run up and coast down.

 He tossed out another box and hoisted out of the chest. The box contained new pieces for the train, additional carts in different shapes. The carts attached by a sharp metal hook, then he wound up the train and let it loose. In this iteration of the train path, the trail wound around some of the toys and the cracked chest, roaming back out around to where Mono crouched. He set his hat on the spare cart and let it go for a ride.

 In quiet he browsed through the toys, studying the interesting shapes and colors. They are all very old, maybe they have seen a lot. Or not. None of them can tell him what they have been through, what happened here. They wait in this lonely room, for someone to come and move them from place to place. No one came to visit them, but maybe no one knew about them. He knew about them.

 This was a nice place. It was one of the rarest of spaces, where the world outside seemed isolated from. Untouched. The walls encasing this little world stood silent and absent of warning speek, of pictures or sketches of dangers and stories alike. Nothing lived here but the orphaned gifts and empty air. In that aspect it unnerved him, to be so far from the vibrations coursing through the dark tinge of environment. In other ways, it felt all right. He could let the train and its cart stop completely, and absorb in the unnatural tranquility. He could even ignore the dry groan of the building, always threatening its inevitable disintegration to time itself.

 In a moment of weakness, he almost wished that another child would stumble upon this mythical space. Entre from a mysterious crack overlooked by Mono, or from the doorway, like a draft. Someone he could share this with, show them how to make the different winding paths. Share the other toys, have together.

 He’s realistic though, and understands how dangerous it would be. The Thin Man might come, and the other child will run. Or they would be caught. Mono wouldn’t know what to do, let alone what he should do. He had questions, so many questions. The Thin Man didn’t like his questions.

 When Mono could get the Thin Man to do speek, it was only to tell about simple things. The stuff and ways Mono knew a little about, but nothing new. No stories about why the Tower made buildings crumble and bend, or why adults needed televisions. The world they existed in was harsh and merciless to children, that was how it was and always would be, end of story.

 In the chest, he unearthed a new box. It was shockingly light, it almost floated away when Mono heaved it out. He carried the bent container to the carpet and opened it. Very little of the contents caught his interest, he had hoped it was more track pieces, perhaps different bends or curves. The contents of the box are layered pieces of thin wood, among pieces he’s not familiar with. A paper pamphlet is provided loaded with speek pictures and marks, but he can’t read any of it. The marks he cannot, anyway, but the picture speek does make sense to him. All picture speek tells a story, if the appropriate pieces are provided.

 Shapes popped out of the thin sheet of wood. At first he was startled, believing he had broken this speek. However, some of the pieces came in duplicates, and catered to very specific shapes. This was different. Briefly, he flipped through the mark speek, and compared the pieces to the pictures within. The lines and shapes held faded, but he could see clearly enough with the mournful little bit of radiance.

 He followed the speek. Slotted two pieces together. They fit. Little by little, he pried and worked. A puzzle. A trick. Not for survival, but for game. Maybe not even for a game. This was happy.

 Off and on he paused, to wind up the train and keep it busy on its track. Then, returned to the loose pieces of the thin wood, and the thing he was putting together. He was very careful, the pieces of wood nearly as thin as rotten cloth. Though sturdy, like him.

 A few additional knickknacks came in a small box. Metal bits, a rubber band, some wheels. He followed the speek to connect them rightly. Now. He was all out of bits and parts. What was this thing? He’d seen it a few times, in rotted pages of magazines. Nonetheless, what it did specifically mystified him. He turned it this and that way, his completed thing. It was impressive, but now the thrill of doing something was gone. He’s disappointed.

 Mono traced his fingers along the sides of the thing he built, feeling the materials. Flimsy. Delicate. What the point? He plucked the little fan blade on the nose, and the rubber band.

 When he wound the fan a bit, it took off. Shot upward with a BRRR! and Mono scrambled backwards. The thing went several feet, nearly to the ceiling. It ran out of vigor, then came all the way back down. On impulse, he rushed out from the chest and caught the thing, before it could smash into the floor. That was surprising! WOW! Why did it do that?

 Once more, he began winding the little fan. As before, it shot off into the air when he released it. Incredible! How high it went! TOL! He caught it as before, and repeated the game several times.

 Oh, but if he kept the thing leveled, it would zip across the room! It would go a far distance! Further than he could teleport. And he chased it, until it floated to the floor. This was so much! Most important of all, he had built it. And it worked. Whatever it was, did something amazing! This and that way it flew. He could angle it up to sweep high, stand on the chest and let it go. So much!

 On a whim he chased after the train, wound it up, and let the little thing – he guessed it was a plane of sorts – let it take a ride on the train, in the snug cradle of his hat. Up and down the little hills he built. On an important mission. Look at all these things he built. Remarkable Game! All this he did on his own. No one helped him, no one showed him how. He was always good at puzzles and tricks, he would never stop being good.

 Though he tore the eyes out of many, some of the plush toys he arranged around the latest build of the train trail marveled at the clever trek the little machine made all around the room. Off and on the plane might smash into one of the stuffed toys, but none ever minded. Other times, the plane would coast in gently across the floor on its wheels. Only one time by miscalculation, did the plane land directly on the track and nearly too late, Mono realized his error. But he was just in time to save the aircraft. After that he was much more careful to keep an eye on the plane, wherever it went.

 It took a while to build it. Actually build from nothing but flat pieces of boring wood. The plane was special, and it could do special things. Mono was ecstatic about the things he built, the games he could make and play. All by himself. It was a good feeling, this sense of accomplishment. It wasn’t what he might’ve felt if he and She managed to topple the Tower, but it was close enough after everything he had endured. Someday maybe he could go back and try once more, when he was better and more able.

 That time was not now. Perhaps someday, or perhaps even never. He didn’t know. It wasn’t so important now, but nonetheless and never ending, he hated the Tower. It felt right to hate something like that, after all the things it did to him, and to Her. Someday out there somewhere, he would hurt it.

 Here and now though, no. Not for a while. He had treasures, he had some happiness, and that was more important than the painful hate that ached him through. He was not ready to face the Tower and all its devious tricks.

Next

[what-big-teeth]

Return (Vampire Boyfriend, pt. 1)

I was hoping to finish this in one go, but it looks like the best method for me will be to work on this story in small chunks. I hope you guys don’t mind this new format for now. With that being said, I hope you enjoy the first part! Female Reader (POV) x Male Monster

tw: injury, blood The tenth anniversary of Last Haven’s destruction is fast approaching. And for once you feel the urge to do something. What that something is though, you’re not sure. 

But doing is better than wishing, than flipping through the local TV stations huddled under your blanket and watching the documentaries like clockwork.

Seeing clips of your younger, ash-covered self being hoisted up by a kind firefighter near the town’s outskirts didn’t affect you before. But now? It’s as if a spark has been ignited in your chest from years of not being able to act. Yet here you are now, able to support yourself and healing through the aid of therapy. These reasons encourage you to make a necessary phone call.

“And you’re sure about this?”

Your fingertips dig into the plastic of your phone case, a method of grounding you picked up long ago. 

“I am,” you say with assurance. “I...just can’t really ignore Last Haven anymore.”

With a soft sigh, Dr. Kern explains she isn’t surprised by your restlessness or your admission. There have been others that have also decided to revisit their respective sites of trauma. Mainly to gain freedom, a needed emotional release, and a new perspective. She sees it as an opportunity for closure, something denied to you since your parents started over again by moving far, far away. But the underlying hesitation in her tone is clear as day.

“If you’re going to do this, I’d prefer for you to not go alone. Have one of your parents go with you. And if not them, ask one of the other survivors in town if they’d be willing to travel with you.”

Dr. Kern has been nothing but supportive since you met her a few years ago at the recommendation of your childhood therapist. 

“I will,” you say, swallowing the sour taste at the back of your mouth. 

It makes lying to her all the more difficult. 

But you know that, in their older age, your parents have fully washed their hands of their old home. And forcing them to return would only open scarred over wounds. While part of you is glad for her support, the other is too busy trying to abate your growing guilt. 

It’s only when you promise to keep her abreast of the situation through texts and emails that her uncertainty and some of your guilt fades away.

Dr. Kern’s backing, coupled with needing to protect your parents and your urge to return, keeps you seated as the intercity bus pulls away from its station. Just before sunrise.

Your eyes scan the shadowed, passing scenery as the sprawling concrete gives way to barely-touched nature. The number of power poles and lines dwindle as the landscape grows brighter and slowly becomes familiar. Somewhere along the way, your eyes grow heavy and your lids fully eclipse your sight. That’s not surprising considering you couldn’t fall asleep last night. It’s why it’s easy for you to give into your fatigue.

A myriad of scenes flash in your mind, a film clunkily spliced together by your weary subconscious. But there are three things that stand out the most: a brilliant shade of red, an old manor, and someone’s back facing you...

“End of the line, ma’am.”

The driver’s announcement startles you awake. Blinking away the grit in your eyes brings you back to the present and the fact that you’re the sole remaining passenger. You gather your duffle bag of essentials, checking your jeans pockets for your phone and return ticket. Thankfully, the bouquet of roses you purchased prior to leaving hasn’t been horribly jostled.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot the driver staring at you with furrowed, deep brown brows and a twisted mouth. 

“You visiting family, Miss?”

The look grates a bit at your nerves and is one you know all too well: that of possible familiarity, coupled with doubt. The sort of expression anyone “famous” may receive.

“Something like that,” you say, a tone of finality in your reply.

The driver doesn’t press the issue, allowing you to unboard at the station. Pulling your coat tighter around your frame, you notice there are only two other people present. One being the bus driver, walking past a door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’. The other is the ticket teller awaiting you with a small smile. 

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Um, yes. I’m hoping to get closer to Last Haven. Are there any running cabs that’ll take me there?”

Her blue eyes flit down to your side, where you carefully hold the bouquet of red roses. A frown pulls at her tanned skin, one filled with sympathy.

“Unfortunately, no. Years ago, all taxicabs that drove to and through that location had their routes updated by the local company. It made sense at the time since Last Haven quickly turned into a ghost town. But if you’d like, I could suggest some hotels further back the way you came?”

You glance at the large, hanging digital clock above her head. 12 noon. That leaves six hours of daylight left; plenty of time. 

“No, thank you,” you say. “I’ll figure something out.”

That ‘something’ being hoofing it all the way there. From what you remember from your childhood, this particular bus station is only a ten minute drive from Last Haven’s outskirts. No pit-stops or detours; just a straight road. Seems simple enough.

With a final assuring wave towards the teller, you step outside onto the black, concrete road and start walking. You’re thankful for your past decision to wear comfortable yet sturdy boots, having recalled the biting chill of Last Haven’s autumns. Your eyes flit up. The sky’s somewhat overcast, but you don’t expect any rain. The forecast didn’t call for it but nowadays, it’s hard to trust what the local weathermen say. You know this personally, since there have been rampant theories as to what caused Last Haven to burn. 

Some meteorologists claimed an unexpected dry spell in town coupled with a few well-timed lightning strikes were what set Last Haven ablaze. But according to old documentaries, previous locals had their own theories. Spontaneous combustion, an accidental fire. Hell, some even claimed cryptids or extraterrestrials. 

Maybe that’s the reason you’ve been drawn back here after so long. To learn what really happened. But as the gray, thin-barred trees become more apparent and what little greenery you see transitions into charred earth...

“Where the hell would I even start?” you utter.

Still, your feet carry you forward, undeterred, until you reach the first landmarker of the town. Faded and chipped blue paint against a tan, charred wooden sign announces Last Haven’s city limits and welcomes you. It’s a mere shell of how it once was, more so with how proud the mayor was with its constant upkeep. 

You steel yourself and begin focusing on crossing the boundary into town. But an odd noise redirects your attention. 

A figure sits in front of a tree that’s a short stone’s throw from the sign. You can’t make out their features thanks to their bowed head and the thick scarf obscuring their face. But the holes and tears in their dirt-crusted clothes and boots hint towards a life of vagrancy. 

Seeing a drifter or two always tugged at your heartstrings. And back in the city, it was a usual sight. But here, your mind keeps attempting to comprehend what your eyes see. Their hands move deftly, methodically with ease, which should be impossible.

No normal person should be able to break apart a metal bear trap with their bare hands.

Your nerves scream at you to run, duck out of sight, anything. You will your heavy legs to inch back, but your heel catches onto something. 

You tumble to the ground, landing on your rear with a sharp cry. Your hold on the roses tighten, and the stems bend from your harsh grip. Yet in spite of the pain coursing through you, you freeze. 

Because the vagrant is standing before you, over you, staring at you with wide, dark eyes. When had they moved? Their broad build becomes apparent to your frantic gaze in spite of their baggy clothes. You slowly pull yourself up, just enough to recline on your elbows. Your empty fingertips uselessly clutch at the cold concrete road.

“P-please...I don’t—”

A deafening crack sounds. Something pierces the vagrant’s shoulder, splashing blood and shredded cloth onto the ground. On you. The vagrant roars in pain with a deep bellow. Turns and snarls at the space behind them. A small, macabre part of your wonders if they’re bearing their teeth. Another screams at you to run because the whites a normal person’s eyes would never darken to a pitch black.

Your body moves, your mind blank. You run as fast as your feet can carry you, but you don’t make it far. Another explosion rings out and you only know pain. Against the growing haze of your mind, you think you hear another roar. And maybe see the vagrant leap and fly through the air. You honestly aren’t sure. Your vision fades to black before you can make sense of things.

[0the-duchess0]

Pokémon type strength and weaknesses explained masterpost

Most of this logic can be used vice versa. 

Normal is not very effective against rock and steel. Rock and steel are very sturdy. Unless you have the tools, you won’t break them. Normal is a physical based type without any “extra’s”. 

Normal and fighting are ineffective against ghost. This speaks for itself. In ghost stories, ghosts are transparent and can pass through solid objects and living things (normal/fighting). 

Water is supereffective against fire. fire is weak to water, because water puts out a fire. 

Fire is effective against grass and bug. nature burns easily, especially wood. 

Fire is effective against ice and steel. Ice and steel melt when temperature rises. 

Fire is weak against rock and ground. You can use sand to put out a fire. rocks may heat up, but are indifferent to temperature changes. Moreover, some rocks turn into diamonds when submitted to heat and pressure. 

Dragon types withstand the forces of nature (water, grass, fire, electric). This might be because most cultures see dragons as elemental figures. They can breathe fire, or cause thunderstorms with their wings, or live in the ocean. 

Dragon is weak to ice types. Just like the dinosaurs died off when the Ige Age hit.

Grass is effective against water. plants drain water in order to feed themselves. 

Water is effective against ground and rock. If water runs along sand or rocks, it causes an effect called sedimentation. The rock wears off by the constant stream of water, and the pointy edges get softened. Sand is easily carried off in a stream, and soil becomes mush if you add too much water. Ice is effective against ground and rock for the same reason (solid state of water). 

Water is weak to electric. Water conducts electricity, making the impact greater.

Electric is not very effective against grass. Just like plants, trees and grass, thunderstorms are part of nature. Also, wood on itself isn’t a great conductor for electricity. 

Electric is weak to ground. It also keeps your house from burning down in the event of a shortcircuit. 

Electric is effective against flying types. Ever seen a bird fly through a thunderstorm?

Grass is weak to poison. Humans are known for using toxins to kill off weeds.

Grass is effective against ground and rock. Roots easily tear soil apart. 

Grass is weak to flying and bug types. Berries, seeds, fruits and sometimes flowers and leafs are vital to the diet of both birds and bugs. Both also use products of nature to build nests. 

Grass is not very effective against steel. Nature had to make way for man-made structures. 

Ice is not very effective against water. Both are the same substance, but in a different state (liquid/solid). 

Ice is super effective against flying. Birds migrate when cold weather hits, because they generally can’t survive low temperatures. 

Ice is not very effective against steel. Steel is indifferent with lower temperatures, and won’t crack easily. 

Fighting is super effective against normal. Imagine a brawl between an untrained person and a black belt. Who’d win?

Fighting is super effective against rock, ice and steel. If you train your karate skills hard enough, you’ll be able to punch through all three of these. This is actually possible, and the subject of a lot of fighting cartoons and movies. 

Fighting is not very effective against poisoning. When you become ill, there is very little to do besides taking medicine and resting it out. 

Fighting is weak to flying types. Mankind has, unfortunately, never evolved to fly on its own. 

Psychic is super effective against fighting types. The mind works quicker than the physical body. Moreover, the phrase is “think before you act”. 

Fighting is not very effective against bug types. Ever tried to swat a fly? And how many of those have you swatted in one go? Also, for every human on this planet, there are approximately 200 million insects for one human being. They have truly outnumbered us. 

Fighting is super effective against dark. Fighting types are often humanoid, because they represent the human body in most ways. Your eyes can adjust to darkness for a certain amount, and the rest you can solve with pressing the light button. 

Poison is not very effective against ground. Ground can wear off most toxcins (henche the ground still bearing plants after you spray it with the weed killer). by greater levels of toxcidity, you can try draining it out. 

Poison is not very effective against rock and has no effect on steel. Not many rocks have living cells that can get poisoned living on them, and rocks themselves are indifferent. Steel is no living organism at all. 

Poison is not very effective against ghost. Try to poison something that’s already dead. It’ll be a tough job, I can tell you that much.

Poison is effective against fairy types. Fairy godmothers lift curses, fulfill wishes and turn pumpkins into carriages. The one thing they didn’t do was save Snow White from that poisoned apple. Shame. 

Ground has no effect on flying types. Cause birds are in the sky, not on the ground. 

Ground is not very effective against bug types. A wide variety of bugs, like ants, burrow themselves into the ground to find food or build nests. 

Ground is super effective against rock and steel. An earthquake causes so much shaking and impact that it could break a rock and tear apart steel.

Flying is super effective against bug. Birds eat bugs as a part of their diet. 

Rock is super effective against Flying types. Ever heard of the phrase “to kill two birds with one stone”?

Flying is not very effective against steel. Just like the flora, the fauna had to make way for man-made structures. Also, nighttime animals, owls and bats in the case of anything flying, can get off rythm by too much light, like the amount that burns in the city at night. 

Dark, bug and ghost are super effective against psychic, and psychic has no effect against dark. Psychic can be compared to the human mind. The most common fears are those of bugs, ghosts and the dark. 

Psychic is super effective against poison. Unlike the body, the mind is still capable of full function when you’re ill. Not that you’ll always feel up for it, though. 

Psychic is not very effective against steel. So sorry, the spoon bending trick only works for Uri Geller and that one kid in the Matrix. The rest of us will have to use brute force to bend steel. 

Bug is not very effective against fighting. Yes, bugs are irritating, but also very vulnerable. For when you finally squat the annoying fly. 

Bug is not very effective against poison. Pesticides exist. 

Bug is not very effective against ghost. You can’t really sting something that you’ll pass right on through. 

Bug is super effective against dark. Most bugs crawl into dark and narrow spaces and are perfectly fine. Some bugs are active suring the night. 

Bug is not very effective against steel. For the same reason as flying types. 

Bug is not very effective against fairy types. Some fairies are depicted as having bug like features, such as butterfly wings. 

Rock is super effective against bug. No newspaper or swatter around? Try a rock against the pesky mosquito!

Rock is not very effective against steel. Rocks might be sturdy, but steel takes the cake. 

Ghost is supereffective against ghost. When you’re both in the afterlife, it’s a free for all. 

Ghost is not very effective against dark. The dark is a very popular time for ghosts to be active. Most of them can only appear at night. 

Dragon is super effective against Dragon. They will fight for their territory, and it will be bloody. 

Dragon is not very effective against steel. Many of them have been slain by swords. 

Steel is not very effective against water. Water can rust steel. 

Steel is not very effective against electric. Metal can receive static shocks. 

Steel is super effective against ice. Just shovel your driveway if there’s snow blocking your path. 

Steel is super effective against fairy. Godmothers might be loved by their princesses, but there is one thing princesses love more: knights in shiny armor. 

Fairy is not very effective against fire. This might be for the same reason as bugs, because they can look much alike, but also because it’s the knights in shiny armor that fight the fire breathing dragons, not the fairies. 

Fairy is super effective against fighting. Fairies are supernatural beings compared to humans, which the fighting type represents. 

Fairy is super effective against dark and dragon. Even if they do not always fight actively themselves, faiires often aid those on a quest to defeat evil or conquer a wildebeast. 

A lot of types are weak to their own element. The exeptions are dragon and ghost (super effective) and normal, flying, ground, fighting, bug, rock, and fairy (regular effectiveness). 

Let me know if I missed any. Like I said, a lot of these work in reverse (example: Water is super effective on fire, fire is not very effective against water). 

[demonprosecutor]

OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS... YOU KNOW THE SONG.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

innocence, like all things, succumbs to the touch of death and time - both in conjunction and never not coexisting with each other. it was a difficult pill to swallow at times, but the naivety of childhood could never weather the storm that the real world presented. a sad notion, but a necessary one. your thighs had ached and chafed with the hours of riding upon amydros - you had never ridden this far nor this long without rest. “alright, let’s rest.” you say aloud, pulling on the reins until the horse trots to a stop, towards a bend in the path where you slid down its back, and tied the leather strips around a sturdy branch.

even if winter had always made you nervous on principle (you’ve heard stories of bodies contorted in the throes of winter as lord thanatos had claimed their souls, or of crops failing and leaving a town starving for the next spring), you find relief of the cold on your aching muscles, a brief respite really. By then, your anger had cooled and subdued into a faint irritation. You were never someone who could hold their anger for a sustained amount of time without being weary.

with the edge of the cloak, you brush off gently-fallen snow off of the surface of the flattest rock you could find there, and carefully made sure that the cloak was at your bottom before sitting down. you had always taken your oaths seriously, always taken the truth seriously, but now? amid the snowy emptiness, placing yourself at the forefront of your secret fears of having to traverse the outside world without a safety tether was frightening.

maybe zagreus thought that your inherent fears would force you to remain in the town? that hypothesis makes you flush with indignation, crumpling the cloak between your hands. how dare he?! you weren’t... some... some civilian in distress that needed saving, you were an independent person capable of holding their own in any scenario.

“maybe lord hermes could glean more answers?” despite the distance between the two towns, you found that they held a camaraderie with each other that resulted in frequent trade during the warmer months and therefore, you had managed to catch the information that there was a rather robust temple dedicated to lord hermes. it makes sense, traveller towns tended to venerate that god above all else, well, the aspect of travelling at least. amydros nickers quietly, ears flicking. 

“at least you listen.” you stand up before the chill could seep through clothing and onto skin, walking over to stroke the strong flank of your horse. “zagreus never bothered to listen. always talking, always stumbling through conversation like a newborn fawn...” your hands curl into fists, pressed against the warm fur. “--- but he was always so kind.” zagreus’ warm smile came to the forefront of your mind, mismatched eyes twinkling like stars. “always made me feel like i was... like i was an equal.” 

by then, a flush rises to your cheeks. “and he is, erm, handsome... and sweet and endearing. like a puppy!” a look up and you see amydros leveling a rather judgemental look. as if to say: really? you were angry at him and now... you’re gushing about him

you slap your cheeks hard enough for it to sting, shaking your head. That was... a moment of weakness! you were still incredibly angry with him and you were going to give him a piece of your mind. Once you saw him. Then you’d hug him tightly because you were worried. zagreus did not know how terrible mortals could be, and you’d feel a lot better with him around.

you are alone.... 

amydros, to the horse’s credit, does not rear back in alarm at the voice that echoed around the clearing. too much like anura, you hold your steed’s reins close, heart thundering to the beat of amydros’ panicked breathing. even then, the most prominent thought that manages to sluice through the anxiety was: again?!

a nearby tree creaks, a mighty oak standing tall and bereft of its leaves, yet it shifts - the whorls on its trunk shifting into the closest approximation of a face. a dryad, an ancient, prideful one, if you had to guess. but most of all, something within your chest eases gently, unfurling like the drying wings of a butterfly. as though you were a child that had roused from a nightmare and found solace in their parent’s arms. they were good. above all, this dryad was a kind one, you could tell.

the stiffness of your shoulders lowers slightly, the smile upon your lips warm and assured. “gentle dryad, it is... wonderful to see you in spite of this bitter winter.” you never forget your manners and rifle through your bag, extracting a slice of bread that was given by menelaia before you left, and held it out - an offering to a near-god.

the dryad shifted its eyes to peer at the bread before the trunk cracks open with a thunderous sound, a gnarled wooden arm unfolding from the depths of the tree like an insect leg that carefully plucks the offering from your hand and returns. the air warms briefly, a signifier of its delight, its ineffable gratitude at recognition. nowadays, people forgot to thank the everyday spirits that resided in this world, ones that aided the gods and kept the earth and oceans as verdant and thriving as it was. “thank you, sapling.” it speaks in an ancient tongue, one that you should not understand, but with the magic of the divine, you were able to. a language so ancient, and so lost, it made your bones shudder at its strangeness. “you seek someone.”

you nod, eyes downcast. “yes.”

“a precious someone.” they say gently, a rumble of thunder in the distance, and you cannot help the aching smile on your face. “someone you care and adore.” they unfurl your heartstrings and read between the lines like the ancient rings of its home. wise because of its years and kinder because of it.

“yes. how did you know?” sometimes things weren’t meant to be asked, but you couldn’t help questioning this matter of mind-reading. “is it that obvious?”

a branch creaks downwards, a lone green leaf brushing over your hair, “love is the easiest to see, always so bright and vibrant. yet...” it brushes away a tear at the corner of your eye. “you are filled with such a terrible sadness, sapling.”

and you chuckle at that, tilting your head, “since when is that a new thing? are not all living things with terrible sadnesses?” you grab your arms, crossing them and rubbing them as a way to comfort. “he left me behind. to protect me from whatever evil this journey will birth. but i was ready to be there next to him! i was ready to protect him in my own way.” you weren’t exactly sure what that looked like, but you were prepared to sacrifice - after all, it’s not like you had much at stake.

the dryad stares at you, eyeless sockets like the void, but infinitely more comforting. before it sighs, “i will help you--”

“why?” you interrupt, cautious as ever.

“i do not have long on this realm and you were the first being that had shown me kindness, is it not fitting for one birthed from love to return love?” the ground breaks, a root curling upwards, breaking through the winterfrost that made it forest floor unmoveable. upon closer, you see a circle of gold hanging from the curve of the root. “forged from deep within the earths, when i used to boast more beauty than now. it is meant to guide you to your heart’s desire.”

you look at the ring, the metal warm and lovely - as though you held your hands against a flickering hearth. “how does it work?”

it laughs softly, a whisper of a breeze, bringing the smell of spring before demeter’s winter dominates once more. “bring it close to your chest and allow your heart to guide you, the ring will show you the way.” you pull back and offer your gratitude with a smile, a nod, watching as the dryad heaves one more mighty sigh before the trunk seals shut and the face fades into obscurity, once more like the trunk it was before.

you stand there, the ring clutched to your chest, just above your heart. it was strange to speak to a dryad that wasn’t speio, shaking your head to dismiss the cobwebs of memory that persisted. there was no point in sinking into nostalgia, it was better to do so when everything calmed down.

as the dryad had instructed, you closed your eyes and allowed thoughts to fall away from your mind - leaving you with the blissful emptiness that allowed your heart to speak freely, without obstruction. the ring warms, hot enough that you grow alarmed, eyes snapping open and peering down at the metal. it shone like a miniature sun, whispering sweetly before a beam of light shoots forward, between the trees and to the great beyond. “what the---” your brows furrow, as you wave a hand through the beam of light, disturbing it like ripples of water, yet remains steadfast in the direction it pointed.

was this what the dryad meant by the ring showing you the path to your heart’s desire?

suddenly buoyed by the thought of your journey made easier, you grin and untangle amydros’ reins from the branch and leapt onto his back, kicking your heels into his flanks. “follow the light!” amydros tosses his head, kicking up dirt and snow underneath his hooves.

the woods thicken, branches so numerous that it blocked the sn, the darkness illuminated by the magical glow of the ring, casting away the shadows that lingered at the edges of your vision. it was wise to allow the both of you to rest, but wolves prowled about in these woods - that and untold dangers. and you weren’t willing to boast your admittedly-pathetic fighting skills.

you had been following the path of the light, unwavering, wind stirring your hair and breath frosting in the air - but then it veers sharply to the right, into a darker path. “shit!---” you yank on amydros’ reins to halt his run, backing him up until you were in full-view of the deviation of the path. “why here?” the ring is brought to your face, pulsating with warm life, pointing into the darker woods, the branches curling about like an archway. unnatural, yet not. 

was this your heart’s desire?

with the reins clutched tightly in your hands, you turn your steed towards the dark void of the path, branches and rotted wood curling about. amydros flicks his ear uneasily, and you stroke his neck carefully. “easy. there must be something there.” with a deep breath and no small amount of courage, you both turn onto the path.

the trail was craggy. interrupted by fallen branches, stones and grooves. this told you that it was a path not regularly traveled by horse or by man, a thought that does not comfort you. after all, danger does not only lie with the mortal realm.

the thought to turn around arose the deeper you went down the path, but considering how tight the squeeze was, it wasn’t an option. trees shuddered, darkness encroaching and stifling enough that you couldn’t breathe. visions of red and crimson flashed before your gaze, screams shrilling in your ears, body shaking and fists curled tightly enough that it bit into your palms.

red and gold, red and gold. only the union of gods and mortal so bold ---- can end this all.

blood flooded your mouth, spilling down your chin, and when you think you cannot handle anymore... you stumble into an open meadow. the air was still, the grass and flowers frosted, yet alive - suspended between life and death. purple butterflies floated about, lingering at your side before floated off. the ring warms, the light pointed towards the figure standing in the middle, draped in reaper’s cloth and scythe held like a harbinger above the hood of lord thanatos.

he looked surprised by your appearance, just as you were by his. “what are you doing here? and... where is zagreus?” lord thanatos looks past you, expecting to see the prince stumble after you, but after realizing that he wasn’t there, golden eyes snap to you.

you slide down with shaky legs, wiping the blood away with the edge of the cloak, approaching lord thanatos and dropping to a knee. the cold immediately sunk into your knee, head bowed. “lord thanatos, i did not expect to see you here.” nor did you expect to have the ring show thanatos to be your heart’s desire, but you kept that fact wisely to yourself, face reddening. “---the prince isn’t here. he left me behind at a town, intent on pursuing his---” you pause, lifting your head before pushing yourself to your feet. was it wise to reveal why zagreus left? or were you going to set things in motion that should not occur.

“well?” he asks impatiently, his features deadpan, yet betraying enough that you knew it was better to speak. besides, zagreus had always spoke about the steadfastness of thanatos, about how he was to be trusted. you quickly pray that he was right.

“prince zagreus went to pursue his missing mother. in a place heavily shielded by magic. lord hermes had given him a map and i intended to follow, but he left me behind. i was given this,” you show the glowing ring, the beam of light disappearing into the darkness of his garb, “and it led me to you. it was meant to show my... heart’s desire.” it was said fast, yet your face warms. “the times are growing stranger, my lord...”

lord thanatos takes everything in, eyes falling shut in thought. “mmm. interesting, this is quite troubling news.” he hovers above the flowers, brows furrowed in a tight knot. death incarnate does not speak for some time, long enough that you shift in place uneasily. "things are changing. things are not dying and ancient evils are speaking within the wells of tartarus. zagreus' mother disappearing is the first step. the olympians will not intervene unless they need to," lord thanatos says this with a curl to his lip, derision evident. "instead they will use zagreus and whatever foolish individual that follows as tools."

(you suspect that he's speaking about you...)

"nonetheless, we cannot leave the fool to die. or meet a fate unknown." his scythe swishes in the air, purple eye blinking at you magnanimously. "i will aid you in your quest, groundskeep." lord thanatos was an imposing figure and to have him as an ally was.... well, it was comforting. there was no figure, no deity feared more, than this god before you. even the olympians feared what he could do; for through his touch, they could find their deaths as well.

"wait--- you're helping me?" your mouth drops open in shock, and this! coming from someone who had threatened you weeks ago....

lord thanatos arched a brow, "was i unclear in my declaration? i'm going to help you find zagreus and subsequently, his mother. it is a pain to have things... not die." there's something in his eyes that told you that there was something more to this, but you don't pry. the machinations of gods were not your concern. "i will speak with lord hermes and see if he could replicate the map he gave zagreus, let your magic ring guide you to him. meanwhile, here." lord thanatos reaches into his chiton, producing a small, little tattered mouse. patchworked with fabric and soft to the touch. it nestled comfortably in the circle of your arms. 

"... what is this?" you look up at death incarnate, cocking your head. why... was he giving you a child's toy?

much to your surprise, his cheeks took on a gentle, gold hue. as though he was embarrassed by your question. “his name is mort, use him if you are in trouble, and i shall come to your aid. but! only when you need it, i cannot always come. find zagreus, do not fail me. and, groundskeep? this is between us.” lord thanatos says this threateningly before disappearing in a flash of green light, temporarily causing spots to appear in your vision.

you are left alone, the earth heaving a sigh at the departure of death. the air stirred once more, the darkness lifting slightly and the strange, purple butterflies that danced in the meadows were gone. you looked at the little mouse, large enough to carry comfortably, and soft too! a quick look around told you that you were alone, save for amydros grazing nearby and took a slight sniff of the toy. 

it smelled of... lavender. of ash. the two smells of your dead town that dominated your nose. but instead of filling you with grief, you were filled with a strange sense of peace. you place mort at the bottom of your bag, where it wouldn’t fall out by accident and leapt once more onto amydros’ back.

the path that you had entered was brighter now, less stifling. the ring flickered to life and pointed northward - towards the town that menelaia had spoken about. you kick your heels and amydros thundered towards where he needed to be.

yet even with the ache of your thighs, the burn of your lungs, your thoughts went back to the god. what did he mean by things not dying anymore? what evil speaks in tartarus? perhaps these questions would be better answered with an oracle or a seer - if the town had any. “let’s hope we find zagreus by then,” you say aloud, amydros’ ear flicked back at you in acknowledgement.

but you weren’t that worried, zagreus had a way of avoiding trouble.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

all was golden when the day met the night

chapter 2/5

read on ao3

start from the beginning

The bell above the door to Armageddon dings as Eddie steps inside, met with the blast of air conditioning and loud music (he recognizes the band, it’s one Buck has played for him before. 10 Years Sturdy? Something like that.). He’s exhausted after a day of back-to-back-to-back deliveries, including two weddings, some kind of charity gala, and a funeral. He does arrangements for funerals often enough, but he still can’t get over the way his stomach turns every time he walks into a funeral home. The memories of being in one, after his last tour especially, mourning his brothers and sisters in arms never leave him alone. They coil around his brain, reminding him that they would be here if he had saved them, if he had been a better leader, a better soldier.

So he’s physically and emotionally exhausted, and all he wants to do is pick up Chris, go home, shower, and sleep for 48 hours. It’s only Wednesday, and he does have work in the morning, but the thought is still nice.

He heads towards the back room, waving at Chimney who gives him a salute back, not looking up from whatever he’s doing on his client’s calf. The guy hisses in pain, and Eddie snorts as Chim rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

As he enters the back office/lounge, he sees Chris and Buck hunched over the table against the side wall, heads leaning together, the surface covered in discarded sketches and crumpled drawings deemed too terrible to save. He sees them like this more often than not, whether in this room or The Greenhouse’s back room or his kitchen table, but it never fails to settle something in him. It’s been Chris and him against the world for so long, it’s nice to have another person in their corner, someone they can rely on. Not to mention, Chris has been Buck’s shadow pretty much from the word go, and Buck always seems genuinely happy to hang out with him. The day they met, Chris spent almost a full hour asking Buck about every tattoo he could see, Buck patiently explaining each one in as much detail as he could give an eight year old. When he offered to show him some of his paper drawings and give him some pointers on his own, Chris had looked at him like he couldn’t quite believe he was real, like he had just offered to draw him a new constellation in the night sky.

Like father, like son.

“He really loves that kid.” Eddie turns towards the soft voice behind him, sees Maddie with a small smile on her face. “I think he likes having someone to teach that doesn’t talk back as much as Chim and me.”

Eddie smiles as he looks back, sees Buck offer a hand for a high five before ruffling Chris’s hair affectionately. “He’s an easy kid to love, that’s for sure.”

“Dad! Come look, Buck taught me how to draw snakes!”

Eddie walks over to the table, peers down at pages of cartoon snakes in various positions. He can see the progression of Chris’s practicing on the pages, going from shaky and unsure to something more realistic as Buck guided him.

“You were halfway there dude, you just needed some help with the movement,” Buck says as Chris preens.

“These look great, buddy. Can you stick them in your backpack so we can get going?”

Chris gathers up his good drawings, pushing the rest of them into the trash can under the table. He picks up his crutches and makes his way to the other side of the room to his backpack and coat.

“Thanks again for watching him, I really thought we’d be done with deliveries by the time school was over,” Eddie says. Buck just shakes his head, a smile similar to Maddie’s on his face as he watches Chris.

“It’s never a problem, Chris is awesome. He offered to hold a girl’s hand that Maddie was working on because it was her first tattoo and she was scared. And then I got to draw with him! That’s definitely a win for me.” Buck looks back at him, and Eddie feels the warm glow of his smile try to sink into his chest. It would’ve, too, if he wasn’t still on edge from his visit to the funeral home. He can feel that his returning smile doesn’t meet his eyes, and Buck looks at him for a moment before setting a hand on his shoulder. Eddie tries his best not to melt at the touch, but feeling the heat through his shirt doesn’t make it easy. “Hey, you good?” Buck asks quietly. “He can keep hanging here for a while if you need some alone time.”

Buck doesn’t know everything. He knows Eddie did two tours, and Eddie had let him draw his own conclusions on how that may have affected him. Whatever Buck thought, he didn’t know the truth, didn’t know the poison sloshing around in his soul, the constant reminder of the light he left behind in Afghanistan and the blackness he brought back instead. And Eddie will do everything he can to keep Buck in the dark, to make sure he never sees those ugly parts of him that even Eddie can’t fully face.

But god does he make it hard. When he looks at him like this, earnest and open, like he can see right through Eddie, all he wants to do is break. Let the poison come spilling out because he knows Buck will help him clean it all up and get rid of it, maybe for good. But he’ll get burned in the process too, and Eddie refuses to let that happen.

So he just shakes his head, forces his smile to a normal size, pats Buck’s arm that’s still holding onto him. “I’m alright man, but thanks. We’ll see you tomorrow, say goodnight Chris.”

“Bye Buck! Thank you!” Chris wraps his arms around Buck’s middle, while Buck bends in half to squeeze back. 

They leave with a wave, say their goodbyes to Chim and Maddie too as they walk out the door. Chris doesn’t stop talking about his afternoon with Buck until he’s tucked into bed. As Eddie goes to bed himself, he tries not to think about a warm body with blonde curls and legs for days taking up the spot next to him, wrapping him in his arms, keeping him safe from the monsters that wait for him in the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~

His brain doesn’t really care what he does or doesn’t want to think about, it seems. 

The dream starts as it often does: he’s in the desert, hiding from enemy fire behind the wreckage of his helicopter, surrounded by the corpses of comrades that he couldn’t save. The others, still alive, are looking at him, outraged and not fighting back, like they already know he’s led them to their deaths. Bullets ricochet off the metal, and one by one the bodies fall, blood spilling out of them, flowing towards him. He’s surrounded by noise and heat and death, and the blood keeps coming, soaking into his boots, staining his skin. He drops his weapon, knowing there’s no use in fighting back. He waits for the inevitable bursts of pain when the bullets finally get him, but after that, he knows it’ll be nothing but blissful, all encompassing silence.

Except this time, when he falls into the darkness that usually wakes him up, he’s not alone. He catches glimpses of sky blue eyes, a lopsided grin, a birthmark that looks like a kiss from the heavens. He sees skin covered in intricate patterns and designs, the ink coming to life as he reaches out to touch. He can’t quite reach it, but it doesn’t matter because he feels safe. Protected. This presence, this warmth that’s surrounding him, makes him feel centered in a way that he hasn’t since...he can’t remember when. And he can’t do anything but sink into it, wrap himself up and burrow into it like he knows he won’t allow himself the same luxury when the sun comes up. It feels like home, like salvation. Like the thing Eddie’s been needing to make him feel right again.

So he takes. He knows it’s just a dream, so he takes and he takes, and he doesn’t feel bad. 

When he wakes with a start, hands twisted in his sheets, he desperately tries to hold onto as much detail as he can, but it’s all slipping away as he becomes more and more conscious. Some things stay — the eyes, the smile. The overwhelming warmth. And there’s an ache, too. A longing, physical ache that still lingers in his chest even now that he’s awake.

He tries to breathe through it, but then he remembers whose eyes those are, and it pulls him under all over again.

“Shit,” he whispers into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ache is still there as he opens the shop the next day, dull but ever present. He’s pretty self aware, so the depth of his feelings for Buck isn’t news, but he really thought he’d have gotten over it by now. He thought Buck would have stopped in one day to get flowers for someone that wasn’t Eddie, and Eddie would have been crushed, but he’d have been able to start the process of moving on. 

But Buck hasn’t done that. He’s gone on dates, but no more than one or two, always claiming they “just weren’t right for each other.” And Eddie’s dumb heart fluttered every time he said that, and his feelings kept growing and growing, and now they’re physically hurting him and haunting his dreams.

He’s so, so screwed.

The bell above the door dings, and of course it’s Buck, the one time Eddie doesn’t actually want to talk to him. Eddie feels the ache grow, feels it pushing at his ribs, but there’s also that warmth and sense of safety from his dream. That feeling he always gets around Buck, no matter what. It’s hot and cold at the same time, and he can’t even begin to figure out how to process that.

“You know, if you keep glaring like that, you’re gonna scare off your customers. Your smile is a much nicer greeting in the morning.”

Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes, not fighting said smile that spreads on his face. It’s almost scary how easily Buck can get him to relax. “Says the man with the leather jacket and a nose ring.”

“Hey, I have a very sunny disposition, even if the clothes don’t match. Plus nose rings are cool, not scary.”

“Whatever you say. Here for your flowers?”

Buck smiles brightly, and there goes Eddie’s heart again. “Yep. Whatever you’re feeling.”

Eddie reaches towards the cases of flowers and pauses, because the only thing he’s feeling is how much he wants to grab Buck by the collar and kiss him until they can’t breathe. How much he wants to wake up next to him, cook breakfast with him, make a life with him. How he’s the first person he’s even thought about showing his darkest parts to because he’s getting tired of carrying them all by himself, and he trusts Buck intrinsically to shine his light on them and start to make them better. Start to make Eddie better in the process.

He cannot, however, say any of that out loud. So he settles for the next best thing.

Aster, gardenia, and pink camellia. Trust, love and longing. It’s unbelievably on the nose, but as he hands the bouquet to Buck, he feels a little lighter. Not like he’s getting over it, but like the pressure of holding it all in has been released just enough that Eddie doesn’t feel like he’s drowning. When Buck waves goodbye, he smiles a little easier, because he did tell Buck, in his own way, and he didn’t have to subject him to any of his mess to do so. 

So maybe this is fine. Maybe he can handle these one-sided love declarations that only he understands. Maybe, maybe, he can make this work, until his heart decides it’s had its fill and starts to move on. 

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s definitely not working. 

Because rather than working it out and moving on like he thought he would, rather than feeling the relief he felt the first time, he just wants more. With every mallow, moonflower, and red tulip he hands over to Buck, he wants to let him know exactly what they mean, exactly how Eddie feels about him.

But anytime he even entertains the idea of coming clean, that little voice in his head reminds him that it doesn’t matter because he’s not enough. If he tells Buck how he feels, he’ll just laugh in his face because even he knows that Eddie wouldn’t be able to give him everything he wants. No matter how supportive he may seem, Buck will take one look at the shredded bits of Eddie that he keeps locked away and leave, because no amount of goodness and light will ever be able to put them back together in a way that resembles someone worthy of that goodness.

Eddie’s never been able to ignore that voice, so he listens and keeps his mouth shut and keeps hoping that one day, he’ll give Buck a bouquet and all of his pent up feelings will just disappear along with it.

A month on, and that day still hasn’t come. It’s cool this morning, so Buck’s leaning over the counter in a hoodie and black beanie, shivering slightly, and Eddie wants to wrap his arms around him and warm him up himself. Or better yet, take him up to his apartment, wrap him in his comforter, and never let him leave.

They talk like normal, and Eddie’s glad he can keep this part up, that their friendship hasn’t suffered any outward damages just because he can’t get his shit together. Hen joins them while Eddie is wrapping Buck’s flowers, and pauses briefly when she sees what Eddie picked out — orange lily and marigold, desire and pain. A strange mix, but it’s exactly what Eddie’s feeling.  He wants Buck so bad it’s starting to hurt.

Buck, thankfully, just smiles as Eddie hands the bouquet off. “These are perfect. Not quite as perfect as our friendly neighborhood florist, but they’re coming in at a close second.”

Eddie just shakes his head, blushing as always. Buck winks, waves to Hen, and steps out the door, letting in a hint of chill as he leaves.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Hen turns to Eddie, fixing him with a pointed look that almost makes him flinch.

“What?” he asks, straightening up the front counter just so he doesn’t have to look at her too long.

“I know what flowers mean too, you know, and I see the ones you keep giving to our favorite tattoo artist.”

Eddie breathes out hard through his nose, rests his head on the counter. It takes more willpower than he’d like to stop him from banging in on the hard surface a few times.

“You really should talk to him.”

He looks up at her, vaguely panicking at the thought. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Because his friendship means too much to me, and to Chris.

Because I refuse to open myself up and drag him down to this hole with me.

Because I’m not what he deserves, and I never will be.

“It’s complicated.”

Hen shakes her head, shrugs as she turns towards the back room. “All I’m saying is, he’s in here all the time, and flirts with you like it’s his job. I don’t think that’s all for nothing.”

She heads to the back, leaving Eddie to wallow. Maybe she’s right, maybe Buck does feel even a fraction of what Eddie feels, but that doesn’t change anything. Buck is still one of the best people he’s ever met, and Eddie is still full of unfixable darkness.

And he’s still so, so screwed.